Horcrux Hunting
by lozzy161
Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione thought they had destroyed all of the horcruxes but, when they are thrown into Middle Earth, they must hunt down the unknown last one to defeat Voldemort once and for all. With new allies, new enemies and a new goal, can they fulfil their original quest?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own in any way, shape or form Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings.**

**A/N: This story has been floating around in my head for a while now. Hope you guys like! :)**

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**Prologue:**

"Protego!" Harry yelled as he cast the shield charm.

With seething anger Voldemort looked around the room for the person who cast the spell. His snake-like face was contorted in fury at having lost Nagini. Harry pulled the invisibility cloak off and let it slide to the floor. His heart fluttered as cheers erupted around the room. But as quick as it had come the cheers died down into silence as Voldemort and Harry started circling each other. While Harry's face showed determination and confidence Voldemort had grown angrier and if looks could kill everyone in the hall would be dead.

"I don't want anyone else to try to help," Harry said loudly through the room. Through the silence Harry could have whispered and everyone would still have heard it. Ron and Hermione made their way to the front of the crowd that surrounded Harry and Voldemort. The looks on their faces told Harry that they would help no matter what.

"It's got to be like this. It's got to be me," Harry said loudly once again but mostly talking to his two best friends. He gave them a meaningful look, staring them down. Hermione placed her hand on Ron's arm and after a look between them Ron nodded to Harry.

"Potter doesn't mean that. That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?" Voldemort hissed with his eyes wide.

"Nobody," Harry simply said. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good…"

Harry was interrupted by Voldemort's laugh. His face showed no more anger but instead showed an uncontained glee as if he had succeeded.

"You cannot kill me, Potter. I have gone further than anyone to conquer death," he cackled.

Harry became slightly unnerved. Worry was building up in his stomach, had they missed something?

_He knows he has lost and he's just toying with me._

"Now you, Harry Potter, will die," Voldemort sneered as he raised his wand, "Avada Kedavra!"

"Avada Kedavra!" the unforgivable curse left Harry's lips before he was even conscious of saying them.

With a leap Harry jumped to the side out of the way of the green flash of light that was coming his way. He cried out in pain as he landed on his shoulder as his wand flew from his hand and looked up to see his curse hit Voldemort square in the chest.

Time seemed to stand still. Voldemort's eyes were wide as if he didn't believe he had gotten hit. The crowd all seemed to be holding their breaths. It was so silent that they could hear the birds in the distance. Voldemort's lifeless body fell to the floor.

Harry made his way towards Voldemort's fallen form and turned him over to see if the dark Lord was actually dead. Ron and Hermione had run up behind Harry and placed their hands on his shoulders for support while pointing their wands at Voldemort's motionless form.

Without warning a gale force wind picked up encasing Harry, Ron, Hermione and Voldemort's body in an impenetrable shell of air. Ron and Hermione cried as their wands were whipped from their hands. The wind around them blew faster and faster and it took everything the trio had to hold on to each other.

Harry's heart dropped as a grey mist rose from Voldemort's body. The grey was unmistakably the spirit of Voldemort and the spirit's eyes seemed to be laughing at him. A heavy weight settled in his stomach as he realised that they had missed a horcrux. After all that time and effort Voldemort had another one and Harry had no idea what the horcrux could have been.

The wind changed direction and started swirling around them like a whirlpool. Their wind shell was so thick that the trio could only see vague blurry figures on the outside. The wind whipped around them roaring in their ears. Then Harry felt the familiar sensation of a portkey. He couldn't breathe as he was sucked through a miniscule tube barely aware that Hermione and Ron were with him.

**Chapter 1: **

There was silence. Harry shot up from where he landed on the floor. Ron and Hermione were stirring next to him. The grey mist of Voldemort fled from the little clearing that they had landed in. It took Harry everything he had to not run after Voldemort's spirit. His breathing was heavy as he stood hopeless within the clearing.

It was night and the moon was full which cast a silvery glow. It seemed that the trio had landed in a small clearing in the middle of an old forest. The trees were ancient and gnarled with dark green leaves that looked black in the night. The ground was hard dirt with no grass and thick roots from the trees crept across the ground. Harry was reminded of the forbidden forest at Hogwarts. Perhaps that's where they were? But no, something about this place felt different. The very atmosphere was more threatening and dangerous. This wasn't the forbidden forest.

"Bloody hell, what happened? Where are we?" Ron asked as he came to stand beside Harry.

"It seems as though we missed a horcrux," Harry replied lightly but inside he was barely containing the anger at their defeat.

Hermione picked herself from the ground with a gasp of pain. She had landed on a sharp rock and now had a nasty cut on her leg. Thick red blood ran down her calf in small rivers.

"Shit Hermione, your leg," Ron panicked.

"Don't worry about me, it's nothing that can't be easily fixed. What happened to Voldemort?" Hermione replied as she started ripping her shirt for a bandage.

Despite her dismissal Ron took the ripped cloth from her and started bandaging her leg. Hermione looked unnaturally pale in the moonlight and Harry started to worry. None of them had their wands and they were in an unknown place with Voldemort's spirit on the loose.

"Well Voldemort fled in that direction," Harry gestured.

They all turned to look at the darkness between the trees where Harry pointed. They all knew how bad their situation was. Ron was panicking, Hermione's brain was in overdrive and Harry was oddly calm after his anger faded away.

A shiver went down Harry's spine putting him on full alert. His muscles tensed and he rose on the balls of his feet. He listened with intensity as his eyes searched through the darkness. Then he heard it, a slight twang that he would've missed if he wasn't listening. Harry then heard the rushing of an object fly through the darkness. It was the sound of an arrow. He remembered the sound from the arrows that the centaurs used. The arrow was flying towards them, or rather, towards him.

Harry let his instincts take over. As the arrow came closer he moved his muscles and adjusted his position. The black arrow burst into the clearing and before Ron and Hermione had even registered anything they started from his sudden movement and saw Harry standing with an oddly serene look on his face and a black arrow clutched lightly in his hand.

"What? Harry! Are you alright?" Hermione yelped when she saw the arrow.

Harry held up his hand for silence. He could smell them, hear them. A group of foul creatures was moving towards them, with silent haste. They smelt rank of sweat and gore. Their breaths were heavy but he knew Ron and Hermione couldn't hear them. Whatever they were Harry didn't want to find out.

"Run!" Harry whispered urgently as he pointed Ron and Hermione away from the creatures.

Years of trust caused Ron and Hermione to run without question. Harry followed behind them the arrow still clutched in his hand. As they left the clearing 15 arrows sped after them hitting trees and the ground near their feet. No arrows hit the trio but Ron and Hermione ran with new vigour. Looming trees sped past them as the trio ran for their lives. They could hear the group of creatures pursuing them as their attackers felt no more need for secrecy.

Occasionally an arrow or two would be fired through the air at them but their attackers concentrated on catching up to their prey. Hermione was falling behind due to her leg injury and Harry knew that they could not keep this up for long. Ron was doing his best to help Hermione but their attackers were catching up, fast.

Harry heard another arrow fly towards them. He could have easily sidestepped it but Hermione was in the line of fire. He knew it was dangerous and couldn't possibly catch the arrow as he ran but he had to save her. Call it his Gryffindor recklessness if you will. As the arrow grew closer Harry stopped, turned and threw his hands up in an attempt to catch it.

Burning pain erupted in his left hand but Harry started running again. He could feel the warm flow of blood and looked down. His stomach lurched as he saw that the arrow had passed straight through his hand, blood pooling around the shaft. Harry looked up again to find his view ahead clear. Panic exploded within his chest, where were Ron and Hermione? He came to a stop and did a 360 turn looking for them. His two best friends were nowhere to be seen. Dread settled deep within him.

Berating himself for losing them, Harry started off running again just as a flurry of arrows hit the ground he had just vacated. The worry for his friends burned within him taking his mind off of his injuries. He didn't know where they were, they were on their own. Harry told himself that if he got out of this mess he would search night and day until he found them.

His breath came in ragged gasps as his feet pounded the hard ground. Harry's eyes strained from looking out for the roots in the dark so he didn't trip. Every beat of his heart sent a shoot of pain through his tired body. His legs felt heavy and his body also ached with exhaustion.

The creatures behind him had lessened but Harry guessed that there were around five still chasing him. No arrows had been fired in a while and Harry hoped that it meant they had run out. It was still dark but the moon was nearing the end of its journey across the sky.

Harry glanced behind him. He could see the outlines of the creatures in the trees. Using whatever energy he had left Harry put on a burst of speed. The grunts from behind him meant that the creatures put on a burst of speed also.

_I don't think I can last much longer, _Harry thought with despair.

Images of Ron and Hermione came to him. He thought of Ginny and the rest of his friends. He couldn't give up, not until Voldemort is dead for good. Harry was determined and if Voldemort couldn't kill him then these creatures stood no chance.

Preparing himself Harry gripped the arrow he had caught earlier in his good hand. It was the only weapon he had so he had to make it count. After clearing his mind Harry planted his feet and spun around. Before the creatures could react he ran towards them and thrust the arrow through the eye and into the brain of the first creature. It fell limp and Harry pulled the arrow back out to do the same thing to the next creature.

Two of the creatures fell dead to the ground before the other three reacted. The surprise of Harry's attack was spent and the rest of the creatures drew their weapons and attacked. Harry ducked to the ground to avoid the three weapons and rolled. As he jumped back up Harry took a spear from one of the dead creatures and thrust it into the closest attacker then jumped to the side to avoid the other two.

Now Harry had felled three of his attackers he stood a better chance of survival. The two remaining creatures were taking no chances and were on guard. It would take some effort for Harry to kill these two.

With two identical grunts the creatures closed in on Harry. Jumping to the left so he didn't get speared Harry wasn't quick enough to totally avoid the other's weapon. The cool metal slid across his stomach leaving the skin burning and weeping blood. Harry twisted to get out of the way and at the same time swung his leg around and swept the creature off its feet. As quick as a flash Harry tore the spear from the creature's hands and plunged it into the exposed flesh of its neck.

The last creature left swung it's sword to decapitate the young human as it felled another of its kin. At the last second Harry sensed the blade coming towards him and ducked. The blade passed over his head and came back down this time aimed for Harry's heart. With a last cry Harry felt the magic within him explode out. Harry watched as the creature before him burst into flames and crumpled in a pile of ash. His vision grew dark as he was pulled into unconsciousness.

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Ron ran as he gripped Hermione's arm. She was fading and fast. Her face was so white that it seemed to glow in the moonlight and she was barely staying conscious. She had lost so much blood from her leg wound. They had been running for what seemed like hours and it was only a couple of minutes ago that he realised Harry was no longer behind them. Ron had no idea when his best friend had fallen behind but he prayed that Harry was ok. He knew that despite what happened Harry would want him to continue on and look out for Hermione.

There were three creatures behind them and Ron was glad that the other's seemed to have buggered off. The creatures were unlike anything Ron had ever seen. No textbook had ever mentioned them and not even Hagrid had told them about these things. They had a human figure but that's the only thing they have in common with humans. Ron could only make out a few things in the dark but the smell is what stood out to him. The smell of death burned his nose. The creatures sounded like feral animals.

Ron tripped as Hermione's leg gave out and fell to the ground. Without thinking he jumped up and put himself between the monsters and Hermione. The creatures snarled showing razor sharp teeth as they drew their weapons. Ron could see in their eyes that these creatures would take sick pleasure in torturing and killing them.

"Ron," Hermione weakly cried.

"Run Hermione, go!" Ron ordered. Hermione would not suffer at the hands of these monsters.

Hermione picked herself up off the ground trying her best to ignore the pain and exhaustion that burned through her body. She wanted to stay and help Ron but she knew that there was nothing that she could do to help. So with a last glance at Ron Hermione continued running with new determination. It wasn't long before she heard Ron cry out in pain but she continued on even as tears fell from her eyes.

The sun was rising when Hermione fell to the ground in a heap, unable to go any further. The last few hours were a haze of pain and despair. Every movement she made caused her body to erupt in searing pain. She was lying in between the roots of an old tree not caring if any of those creatures were still chasing her. Tears were still falling from her eyes not just for Ron but for Harry, wondering if she would see them again and the fact that they had failed in killing Voldemort. She tuned out her surroundings as she let hopelessness, fear and despair wash over her. The trees groaned and swayed around her. Hermione eventually fell into a fitful sleep plagued with nightmares.

As soon as she was asleep the trees groaned and swayed as they talked to each other. Sunlight streamed in through the canopy of leaves and by the time the trees stopped groaning the sun had well and truly risen. One of the trees in the area started moving and bent down to pick up Hermione and started walking.

The trees heard the whispers from their brethren saying that three young Istari had appeared out of nowhere with a burst of magic and were being chased by a pack of orcs. They were unconcerned with this matter, as most of the Istari in the lands had turned from nature and only wished that the orcs left them alone. But when a young female Istari had stumbled into sight emitting waves of wild magic before falling to the ground, Treebeard felt it was his duty to aid her.

As isolated as the trees and Ents were, Treebeard felt in his weary limbs that Middle Earth was approaching a great darkness. The three mysterious Istari were destined to play a major part in the coming war, whether for good or for evil.

So Treebeard had picked up the young Istari and travelled to the edge of the Forest where he knew a group of humans with horses were camped. Her fate now rested in their hands.

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Harry woke with a start. He wrinkled his nose in disgust from the rank bodies of the creatures he killed. His body ached from exertion and his limbs felt heavy and weak. As he sat up the slash on his stomach began to bleed again but thankfully the wound was not deep. The arrow that had penetrated his hand was still there and thick blood still oozed from the wound. Other than those injuries Harry only had a few cuts and bruises.

Knowing he had to take care of his wounds Harry searched the creatures' bodies for anything that could help. There was nothing of use to be found except the weapons and with a pained sigh he leant against the trunk of a tree. Harry was lightheaded and weak with blood loss. If only he had his wand Harry could heal himself. But thankfully Hermione had insisted that they learnt Muggle first aid back when they were training for the war.

Harry closed his eyes and listened. In the distance he could hear the small trickle of a stream. Picking up the sword he scavenged Harry slowly and painfully made his way over to the stream. When he got there Harry lay against a tree and regained the little energy that he could.

Moving next to the stream Harry shed his robes leaving him in only his jeans. As carefully as he could Harry ripped several strips of cloth from his robes. Taking his white shirt Harry wet it and started cleaning the slash on his stomach. Pushing past the pain Harry cleaned it until he was satisfied that he wouldn't get an infection from the blade. Using some of the strips of cloth he bandaged the freely bleeding cut.

Looking at his left hand in dread Harry gulped. Removing the arrow would be painful. After taking a few deep breaths Harry snapped the shaft. A torrent of searing pain erupted from the wound. Before he could chicken out Harry pulled the arrow from his hand with a cry of pain, almost blacking out. His hand was now heavily bleeding and throbbed in agony.

Harry plunged his hand in the stream hoping that the cool water would provide some relief. Picking up the shirt Harry scrubbed at his wound and watched as the red blood mixed with the water. Using the rest of the strips of cloth he bound his hand as tight of he could.

He lay back against the tree by the stream and closed his eyes. Just cleaning and dressing his wounds had exhausted all his energy. Harry's hand was throbbing and he knew that the bandage would do little good.

_If only I had my wand, _he thought bitterly.

But then Harry thought back to when he killed that last creature. He had used his magic, not consciously, but perhaps he could use it again. Harry had never attempted wandless magic but now is as good a time as any.

He relaxed his whole body concentrating solely on his magical core. Harry spent his time analysing and getting a feel for his core. With his mind he willed his magic to heal his hand but was disappointed when his magic barely stirred. Harry thought about the feeling of casting magic with his wand. It was effortless but he remembered back in his first year at Hogwarts how hard it was for him to change that matchstick into a needle.

Determined to try again Harry concentrated on his magical core. He visualised his magic to be in a cocoon and to use it he had to make a gap for the magic to exit the cocoon so it could be used and manipulated. Harry mustered up his willpower and tried to push his magic from inside the cocoon but it evaded his attempts.

Harry was getting slightly annoyed but it was only his second try and the only person who he knew could do wandless magic was Dumbledore and young children who do accidental magic. He thought back to the times when he had cast accidental magic. He had used magic when he was under threat or his emotions were running high, like extreme anger. Thinking of a moment when he was angry Harry tried to use his emotions to fuel his magic. Yet again nothing happened.

He needed some way for his magic to escape the cocoon so he could use it. Visualising a doorway on the cocoon Harry tried to coerce his magic to go through the door. With excitement he felt his magic stir, awaiting his command. Harry mentally urged the tendrils of magic to travel down his arm into his hand. He could feel it, the magic sitting in the palm of his hand beneath his skin just ready to be used.

_Heal the wound, _Harry thought to his magic.

Slowly his wound began to close up as his hand was knitted back together by the magic. Once it was done his magic sat in his palm once more waiting for another command. The use of wandless magic drained whatever energy Harry had and he felt exhausted. He released the hold that his mind had on his magic and he felt it drain away back to his core.

Undoing the bandage on his hand Harry saw the flawless skin. There was no sign that the arrow had been there. Harry was elated, he had used wandless magic. With some practice he was sure that he could become and expert at using it. With a smile Harry succumbed to the darkness of sleep beneath the tree by the stream.

When Harry awoke he was feeling much better. While he slept his stomach wound had closed and the tired ache had mostly faded from his muscles. He thought that his magic had helped heal his wounds while he was sleeping or that there was something in the water. With the absence of pain he became aware of the gnawing hunger, thirst and the cold that sapped his warmth. Looking around him Harry took in his surroundings as he had not done when he first came to the stream.

The trees here looked older than the trees he had first seen. They were taller and their trunks were thick and broad. Their roots were about as thick as Harry himself and they dug deep into the cold hard ground. The thick canopy blocked out most sunlight so Harry couldn't tell what time of day it was. There was a slight mist that blanketed the ground which stole away any warmth.

Harry knelt down by the stream and drank some water. It was cool, refreshing and tasted earthy. As it quenched his thirst the water stopped him from feeling quite so hungry. It was fine for now but Harry knew that he needed to eat something soon or he would die of starvation. After putting his the remains of his robes back on and strapping the sword to his belt Harry set off in search for food.

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Ron had accepted the fact that he was going to die. He was wandless, without a weapon and up against three unknown and intimidating creatures with weapons. Fighting was futile if he wanted to live. But determination burned in his eyes. It took all of his courage and bravery to not flee when every fibre of his body was screaming to run. He wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing though. If he could only hold them off long enough for Hermione to escape then dying would be worth it.

Instead of cutting him down on the spot, like he expected, the creatures slowed to a stop and drew their weapons, a wicked glint in their eyes. The middle creature started saying something to Ron but he couldn't understand. It was talking in a harsh guttural tongue and was waiting for a reply with what seemed like an evil grin. The two creatures that were flanking the middle were laughing with malice.

_I need to keep them here for as long as I can, _Ron thought to himself.

The middle creature repeated what it said with a kind of sadistic glee.

"Hey mate I don't understand you. Try speaking English," Ron chuckled mockingly.

The creatures couldn't understand what Ron had said but they didn't like his tone and growled low raising their swords as a threat.

The two outside creatures raised their weapons and with a growl they were to attack. The middle creature spoke to them and they lowered their weapons as they glared at Ron. The middle creature said something else which caused sadistic grins to form. Ron could tell that he would've been killed right there if the middle creature hadn't stopped them, but why? What else did these creatures have in store for him?

The monsters spoke a few more words to each other while keeping an eye on Ron in case he started to run. They then turned to Ron and before he knew what was happening the middle creature had struck out. With a cry Ron slumped to the ground unconscious now at the mercy of the creatures.

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**A/N: There's the first chapter! Please tell me what you guys think! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, much appreciated :) Hope you like this chapter!**

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**Chapter 2:**

Hermione smelt smoke. She felt the heat of a fire.

_No one could see through the thick black smoke. Hermione was vaguely aware of Ron and Ginny crawling along the floor with her. The stifling heat and billowing smoke had woken them from their sleep. The Burrow was on fire. Every breathe she took had her inhaling more smoke than anything else. If they didn't get out soon they would suffocate. Everything had an orange and red glow as the fire burnt through the house._

_Ginny gave a strangled cry as the roof just before them gave way. Luckily no one had been crushed but their only way out had been blocked. The enchanted flames snapped out at them hungrily. The three backed away quickly. It hadn't taken them long to find out that water couldn't put the fire out, it was a cursed fire, fiendfyre. _

_Their time was running out. They were running out of oxygen. Hermione's vision was growing dark as she felt Ginny fall unconscious beside her. She grew weaker and Ron's cries seemed to be far away. All she could hear was the roaring fire as her vision faded into blackness._

Hermione awoke with a cry of terror. The house was burning! They were trapped and going to die, her, Ron and Ginny. Luckily Harry hadn't been staying there and she only hoped that the rest of the Weasley's and her parents were able to escape.

Her eyes were wide in fear and her heart beat uncontrollably in her chest. Panic caused her to move, lest the flames burn her. Hermione became aware of a cool breeze on her exposed skin and the rich earthy smell of her surroundings. She came to her senses and looked around, adrenaline still coursing through her system. There was a fire yes but it was just a campfire. It was out on the plains that surrounded the forest tended to by a group of men, warriors. It was not the fire that was burning the Burrow to the ground. That fire had already happened. Those lives had already been taken.

Hermione hugged her knees to her chest ignoring the burning pain in her leg. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she remembered that night, but she didn't care. Harry and Ron weren't there. She didn't have to be strong for them. She didn't have to hide her tears.

The warriors that had been camped by the edge of the forest had started when they heard Hermione's cry, unaware that someone had been so close to them. Several men were sent to investigate so they cautiously entered the forest with their weapons drawn. The trees groaned but the men were not so easily scared. The myths surrounding this forest were just that, myths, or so their Captain had said.

Not too far into the forest they came across a deathly pale female who was sobbing into her knees. The men could clearly see the huge gash on her leg which was still weeping blood. Normally they would have dwelled further on her abnormal clothing but she was injured and needed their help. 'Help first and ask questions later,' their Captain always said.

Hermione flinched and tensed as she felt a hand grasp her shoulder. She hit away the hand and jumped up to run away while berating herself for letting her guard down. Moody would have been disappointed in her for not showing constant vigilance. Hermione had only taken a few steps before her leg gave way and she felt to the ground.

She turned around to face her attackers. There were five of them. They all had their swords drawn, but hung back away from her. One of them stepped closer to her and Hermione tried to back away as much as her protesting leg could bear. The man that was approaching her sheathed his sword and held his hands up in front of him in a placating manner.

He started speaking soothingly but Hermione couldn't understand what he was saying. The words were unfamiliar and bore no resemblance to any languages that she has heard. When he didn't get a response the man gestured to her leg wound. Hermione looked at him then at the rest of the men with suspicion. He caught the look and spoke to his men. They sheathed their weapons but still remained on guard.

_What is this? They attack me and now it seems as though they are trying to help me? I don't trust them. I shouldn't trust them. Strangers can't be trusted._

The man continued to slowly make his way to Hermione. She had no more energy to move away from him so she fixed him with an icy glare. Even though he knew that she wouldn't respond the man continued talking. His words were calming and Hermione found her heart rate slow. She looked into his soft blue eyes and found comfort. Hermione wouldn't go as far in saying that she trusted this man but somehow she knew that he wouldn't harm her, yet.

As if he sensed something had changed, the man closed the distance between them. He knelt down so that he and Hermione were on the same level. With a small nod of her head to the man he examined Hermione's leg wound. After a few painful pokes and prods the man turned around and spoke to his fellow comrades. Turning back to Hermione he made a few gestures between Hermione, her leg and his camp. Knowing that there was nothing she could do for herself at the moment Hermione nodded her head.

The man gently picked her up careful not to aggravate her injury too much and began to take Hermione back to his camp. Hermione remained tense and alert in his arms despite how tired she felt. Every time her calf was moved a burning streak of flame shot up her leg, yet Hermione refused to make a sound so as not to appear any weaker.

Upon entering the camp, a healer was waiting for them and set to work immediately. After an initial examination he looked gravely at Hermione. He gave some orders to a few of the men that were surrounding them before he started to talk to her. She didn't reply but was grateful that he kept talking since it was something to concentrate on beside the agony of her wound. Hermione could tell that he was trying to cause her as little pain as possible and she mentally thanked him for it.

The healer cleaned, stitched and bandaged her wound. When that was done the man from before came and sat down beside her and passed her a bowl of stew. Hermione looked at the stew suspiciously and didn't accept it, no matter how hungry she was. It might have poison or some other potion in it. With a laugh the man put his own stew down and took several spoons of hers before offering it to her again. Hermione hesitantly accepted it and relished the feeling of nice warm food in her stomach.

The man pointed at his chest and said, "Éomer."

Hermione assumed that he had just introduced himself and nodded.

"Penelope Clearwater," Hermione introduced after a pause.

She wasn't going to say her real name. Wherever she was didn't matter, there were still Death Eaters out there and one more horcrux to destroy. Éomer gave Hermione a smile and started chatting on about things she couldn't understand. She zoned out what he was saying and examined him. He had dirty blonde hair that fell past his shoulders in tangled clumps. His face had smudges of dirt as well as his clothes. Over her stew, Hermione could smell body odour and horse. Although it was unpleasant Hermione couldn't begrudge him, as Éomer had clearly been travelling for a few days.

While she ate Hermione tried to figure out what had happened, her brain going into overdrive. Harry had hit Voldemort with the killing curse and Voldemort fell to the floor lifeless. Then the unnatural wind picked up and a grey shade had come out of Voldemort's body. They were then transported to some unfamiliar forest where Harry had said, 'It seems as though we missed a horcrux,' then they were chased by some unknown creatures. She and Ron lost Harry then Ron sacrificed himself so she could continue on.

_Ron's most likely dead, killed by those horrible creatures. Harry might still be alive but I have no idea where to start looking for him, not that I am able to look for him as I am injured. Voldemort is clearly not dead which means he does have another horcrux. I have no idea where I am and with a group of men who speak an entirely different language and look like medieval warriors. I don't know what to do._

Hermione could feel the tears build up as the fear, confusion and hopelessness settled over her. She wanted to scream and cry, to fall asleep and wake up to find that it was all just a dream. But this was real, so very real.

_You can't know that for sure, _a little voice inside her mind said.

Hermione ignored the voice. There was nothing to gain by thinking that this was a dream. If it was a dream then she'd wake up soon but until then she still had to think that it was real. Either way she had a duty to Harry and to the rest of the wizarding world to destroy Voldemort.

Firstly she needed a plan. Since she was injured her first task was to heal enough to be able to set off. After that she would need to gather information about this place since she couldn't really decide on a long term plan without information. Hermione hoped that her friends were alright, she couldn't bear to face the reality that they may be dead.

"Penelope Clearwater."

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts as Éomer called her 'name'. She looked up at him and noticed that his eyes were full of concern. Did he see the tears in her eyes? How long had she been thinking? Judging by her luke warm stew it had been quite a while. Hermione shook her head and gave him a weak smile.

One of the men from the camp came up to them and started talking with Éomer. The conversation didn't last long but when it was over Éomer stood up and brushed the dirt from his clothes. He took the bowl of stew from Hermione and said something, presumably a goodbye, then left her sitting alone.

Hermione saw that the rest of the men were packing up and getting their horses ready. They were going to leave. Would they leave her or take her with them? She didn't really believe that they were bad men and if they had helped her so far then she didn't think they wouldn't leave her here by herself.

After the fires were doused Éomer came back over to Hermione leading his horse with two other men. While he spoke he gestured to his men that were with him and to his horse and to some place beyond the horizon. Hermione rolled her eyes, she had already figured out that they were leaving, what she wanted to know is what was going to happen to her. After some more words and gesturing, Hermione figured that she was going to be riding with Éomer. So with a nod of her head Éomer gently picked her up and with help from the other two men secured her on his horse. He then mounted the horse and sat behind Hermione while the other two men mounted theirs.

The sun was not quite at its zenith which made Hermione wonder just how long she had been unconscious for. She vaguely remembered that the sun was shining when she finally stopped running. It was then that Hermione realised that she had fallen unconscious in a clearing, not at the edge of the forest. Someone or something had moved her, but why? Why did they not stay with her?

The group travelled in a trot away from the forest. Hermione wondered where they were headed and hoped that she would not be on the horse for long. Every movement of the horse sent a twinge of pain from her wound. Éomer took the head of the group and happily chatted away to Hermione. Like with the healer Hermione concentrated on his voice to distract herself from her pain.

With a groan Hermione gingerly settled herself into a sitting position. They had ridden for most of the day and not only did her wound burn in agony but her entire body ached from sitting on the horse. Éomer laughed and gave her a sympathetic look while he took care of his horse. Hermione shot him a glare and tried to stretch her aching limbs.

By the time the sun had set the fires had been lit and a simple dinner had been served. Éomer had found some spare bedding for her which she reluctantly used. It was a few hours into the trek that Hermione realised that she still had her beaded bag with her. It still had everything from their camping within it but she didn't know if these people knew about magic or not. Either way she didn't want to reveal herself to them, she needed to remain hidden from Voldemort's minions.

The healer had checked her leg shortly after dinner and luckily none of the stitches had torn from riding. Hermione found a spot away from the fires on the edge of the camp for her to sleep. Éomer wasn't too happy about it though, wanting her to stay in the middle of the camp, but realised that perhaps as a female she didn't feel comfortable being around so many men.

The grassy planes were bare and as beautiful as they were they got boring after seeing them all day. She looked up towards the stars. They were so different from the stars back home. So unless she had ended up on the other side of the planet she was in a completely different world.

* * *

The flames reached towards the night sky, dancing in tune to some unheard song. Every now and then an ember would fly into the sky, red hot against the inky black, before fading into the background. Éomer watched the untameable flames while he dwelled upon a mystery.

Occasionally his eyes flickered to where young Penelope Clearwater was sleeping. It had taken a while for her to fall into the land of dreams and Éomer could see that her rest was not peaceful. She would toss and turn as well as mumble in her strange tongue. It got so bad that he checked her for fever, after all her wound could have started to fester.

Penelope Clearwater was the object of mystery. She was found alone and injured in Fangorn Forest wearing strange clothing. Robes much like Gandalf the Grey would wear, could she be an Istari? Yet Éomer had never heard of a female Istari nor one so young. Penelope Clearwater did not look much older than 16 or 17 summers. However, for one so young her eyes seem so haunted and old.

When Éomer first saw her, Penelope Clearwater's eyes were full of suspicion. She was untrusting and guarded. Éomer also saw her hidden emotions too. Fear and confusion. No one should be afraid of the Riders of Rohan least of all a young woman. Or was it the fact that they were men? Had she learnt to fear men? Éomer knew that not all men were honourable and just and it disheartened him to think something may have happened to this woman. Is that why she was injured? Could she have been running from a group of Dundeling men? But surely she could realise that Éomer and his men were not Dundelings.

Éomer once again flicked his eyes towards her sleeping form. He could faintly hear her muttering in her foreign language over the crackle of the fire. Penelope Clearwater was obviously not from Arda. How could she have gotten so far into their borders then? Was she originally with a larger group? If so, where did they come from? More importantly, were they a threat? Perhaps that's why she was afraid when they first met, they could be on different sides. Even now she could be biding her time, gaining their trust, before she and her people attacked. Her injury could have been a ploy to get into their ranks. Éomer's eyes narrowed in suspicion and he quickly checked the location of those on guard duty.

With a shake of his head Éomer abandoned that train of thought. He truly did not believe that she was a threat. She was merely lost and alone in a strange world no matter how unbelievable that sounded. That did not mean he would let his guard down. She was a stranger and Éomer could sense that times would be changing. Orc and Dundeling sightings were on the rise and a queer mood was settling over the land.

With a sigh Éomer ran his hands through his hair. He would take Penelope Clearwater to his Uncle, the King, and he could decide what to do with her. It was still a couple of days ride to Edoras, a couple more days to observe her. Éomer gave a small chuckle to think of Penelope Clearwater having to ride for a few more days. She was clearly unused to horse riding, however strange that was. Yet Éomer knew she would hardly complain. He could tell she was not one that would show others weakness, but that didn't mean she invincible.

With one last glance at Penelope Clearwater's sleeping form, Éomer slipped into his bedroll. He drifted off to sleep with many questions buzzing through his mind, all centred around the young female sleeping on the edge of the camp.

* * *

Harry was sitting beside a small fire completely exhausted as night grew. He had travelled for hours looking for something that he could eat. There were a few berries but he wouldn't take his chances because knowing his luck they would have been poisonous. Using the magical contacts, which had replaced his old glasses at the start of the war, to find body heat he eventually he came across a small bird. Summoning his magic Harry stunned the bird then killed it. With twigs and branches from the forest floor he used magic to start a fire where he cooked the bird. The bird was plain and tasteless but Harry was used to unsatisfying food from his life at the Dursley's and while on the run.

Although he had cast two minor spells it drained a lot of energy. He would have to train his wandless magic if he wanted to be able to defeat Voldemort since it didn't look as though he would get be getting his wand back any time soon. Harry would also have to disguise himself from anyone that could recognise him, mainly Death Eaters, since he was pretty powerless at the moment. There wasn't much he could do about his hair at the moment except let it grow long. He could however change his eye colour thanks to his magical contacts.

In his sixth year after his glasses broke one too many times Hermione took Harry to a shop in Diagon Alley that sold eye-ware. Instead of buying more glasses Harry had chosen to buy some magical contacts that had all types of charms and enchantments on it. It had cost a pretty penny but they were well worth it and had helped Harry through some pretty tricky situations. The contacts allowed Harry to change his eye colour, see body heat, see auras, have night vision, and may other modes as well as enhancing and correcting his vision. The only downside was that he could only use one mode at a time. Harry changed his eyes to a grey colour which wouldn't stand out like his green ones did.

Another way Harry thought to disguise himself would only happen over time and with a lot of hard work. Everyone knew the boy-who-lived had a slight, wiry and unhealthy looking figure so with a lot of physical training he would gain muscle and stature which would help with his disguise. Well he hoped anyway and if it didn't it still wouldn't hurt to be physically stronger.

After putting the fire out Harry put his night vision on, this made his eyes yellow with black slits like a cat, and moved away from the clearing. Harry walked for an hour away from the remains of his fire. Maybe he was being paranoid or just performing constant vigilance but the forest seemed somewhat hostile. Perhaps that's why there were so little animals in here. By moving away from his fire any creatures that were hunting him couldn't find him by the smell of smoke.

He climbed up one of the trees and made himself comfortable for the night. His thoughts drifted to Ron and Hermione. Were they dead or alive? He didn't know and it made him sick with worry. They were the only family that he had, the only people that stood by him. He knew that without them he would never have even gotten close to defeating Voldemort and he needed them now to finally destroy that monster. By now Harry had no idea which way he had come from so he didn't know where to start looking for his two friends. Tomorrow he would set out and try to find them but a part of him didn't expect to succeed.

When Harry woke the next morning his muscles were stiff from staying in the same position all night. He had an uncomfortable feeling that something was watching him. Using his contact's body heat mode Harry surveyed the area. He couldn't see any living being around him. Shrugging the feeling off as being stiff and tense Harry dropped from the tree in silence.

After stretching out his muscles Harry set off walking in what he thought was the way he had come. As he walked he kept a look out for some food as well as any sign of Ron and Hermione. He eventually found another small bird and stopped to have some breakfast while saving some of the bird for later.

As Harry walked the feeling that something was watching him increased. It put him on edge and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He was used to people watching him all the time because he was the boy-who-lived but not knowing what was watching him, or where it was, was getting on his nerves.

With an exasperated sigh Harry sat on the cold hard ground and rubbed his temples. He stopped then took two deep breaths. Since he couldn't see what was watching him he could try and find out where they were by listening. The forest was thick with a heavy silence. There were no animal sounds or the gentle rustling of leaves just a blanket of silence. Then he heard it a faint hiss then the slither along the ground.

_So I am being watched by a snake, _Harry thought to himself.

His mind thought back to how Voldemort had possessed snakes when he was in the Albanian forest all those years ago. He didn't really think that Voldemort possessed the snake since his scar was not hurting but they may just be because Voldemort's soul was no longer attached to him. The snake also explained why he could not see it in body heat mode since snakes were cold-blooded reptiles.

Harry opened his eyes and looked towards where he heard the snake. It was sitting curled up on the ground in Harry's line of sight. The scales were jet-black but shimmered with different colours as the snake moved. The snake's eyes were trained on Harry and it frequently tasted the air with its tongue.

The human has seen me. It's a sharp sighted one, like an elf. But the human will be a good meal, yes he will. He is no match for my deadly venom_,_ the snake hissed without knowing that Harry could understand it.

_I have things to do snake. If you try to bite be I will not hesitate to kill you even though it goes against my nature to harm such noble animals,_ Harry replied while purposely praising the snake.

The snake shot up. Never in its life had it even heard of a human being able to talk its tongue.

You speak such a noble tongue Human. Where did you learn it? The snake demanded.

I was born with the knowledge of how to speak it, it's in my blood. Harry replied watching the snake wearily, even though what he said wasn't technically true as it is assumed that he had received the talent from Voldemort that night.

I've never heard of such a gift but if the Valar have gifted it to you then you are worthy. I am the wise Black Night Scales and I shall provide you with any assistance that I can, oh noble speaker_,_ Black Night scales said as it bowed its head to Harry.

Thank you Black Night Scales. I am honoured to meet your acquaintance. I am Harry Potter and I may need your assistance_,_ Harry said as he bowed back to the snake.

Black Night Scales slithered over to Harry. Harry was somewhat mesmerised by the shimmering of the snakes scales. Was the snake somewhat magical?

How can I be of assistance Harry Potter? I am the most intelligent and knowledgeable snake in all of Arda. Black Night Scales asked.

Firstly I would like to know where I am. I would also like to know if you have seen two more humans in this forest.

Humans call this forest Fangorn Forest. It is located at the south-eastern end of the Misty Mountains near the Gap of Rohan. Isengard is near the south western corner of this forest. As for the two other humans you seek, I have not seen them_, _Black Night Scales answered as she slithered into Harry's lap.

Harry had never heard of Fangorn Forest, Misty Mountains, Gap of Rohan or Isengard so he was pretty sure that he was a long way from home. His worry for Ron and Hermione almost tripled. They were alone, possibly injured or dead in this unknown world. Harry desperately hoped that they found their way.

Have you seen any dark shades or spirits lately? Harry asked as he began to stroke the snake's scales.

No but I did feel a dark presence shortly after the pulse of the forest_,_ she answered.

What was the pulse of the forest? Harry asked confused.

It happened not four days ago. It has never happened before and I went to investigate. Lots of magic was unleashed. It was exciting. When I got to the place where the pulse originated there was nothing there except some magically strong blood and nasty orcs arrows. I followed the scents that were left. There were four different scents, one of which was orc scent. For a while they were all heading in the same direction then they split up. I followed the scent that was left by you, the most magically potent of all_,_ Black Night Scales answered with a flick of her tongue.

The pulse that Black Night Scales described must have been when they had appeared in the forest. Harry was getting excited. If Black Night Scales was able to follow his scent then maybe he would be able to find Ron and Hermione.

If you went back to where the pulse originated do you think that you could follow the scent of the other two humans that I was with? Harry asked desperately.

Perhaps. The scents may have faded by now but there is a chance that I could still follow them. I am after all a great hunter of my kind_, _Black Night Scales replied smugly.

That's great. Would you be able to take me? Harry asked.

Of course Harry Potter. Follow me, Black Night Scales replied as she already started slithering away.

Harry eagerly got up feeling rejuvenated and followed the snake through the forest.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: And here's the next chapter! Thank you so much to those who reviewed! It's much appreciated! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

Ron groaned as he was unceremoniously dropped to the ground. His vision was hazy and his head throbbed from when the creature had struck him. He assumed that he had received a bad concussion and decided to try and not fall asleep again. The foul smell of the creatures burned his nose and he didn't think he'd ever get used to it.

When the creature struck out at him Ron was pretty sure that it was going to be a death blow. But he had regained consciousness with an agonizing headache being carried over the shoulder of one of the creatures as they ran through the forest. His hair was matted with dried blood and occasionally his wound would reopen and slowly ooze but he did not think he was in any life-threatening condition.

The creatures had been carrying him for two days now, not counting the time that he was unconscious since he didn't know how long that had been. Ron had no idea where they were taking him and what they were going to do with him. They were still within the same forest, but that didn't mean much to Ron. He had no choice but to go with them as his hands and feet were bound and when he wasn't being carried he was tied to a tree so he couldn't escape, not that he had the energy to do so anyway.

Since the three creatures were here with him Ron clung to the hope that Hermione had gotten away. That is, of course, assuming that she had not been captured by the other creatures. Ron also worried that she had lost too much blood from her wound. Hermione was smart, though, she'd be able to fix it.

Ron knew he wasn't much of a thinker, unless it was for chess, but for the past few days all he could do was think. He had many questions buzzing around his mind but to his annoyance Ron couldn't answer any. Hermione was the smart one of the group, she'd have figured out everything in seconds with that amazing brain of hers. She probably already had a plan of attack.

_But that's even if she's still alive. _

Even Harry, who was not the most academic, still would have figured out some answers by now. But was Harry even still alive? Ron didn't even know when they lost him. Harry was strong though. He always was able to survive against the worst odds. Ron had faith in his best friend. Harry would save him.

The creatures started a fire and one of them went away to hunt for some food. Every now and then they would look at Ron and give a leery grin but other than that they left him alone. When the creature returned with some food Ron's stomach growled loudly. The creatures laughed at him and gave him no food, not that Ron expected it. Although he had become used to the lack of food when they were on the hunt for horcruxes he had never gone this long without something to eat. He was allowed to drink from the occasional stream that they passed but that's all he got.

Accepting that he'd not get any food that night Ron tried to make himself comfortable between some of the roots of the tree he was tied to. He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged himself for warmth because the fire was too far away to be of any use. Hopefully when he slept his head would heal faster and he'd build up his energy reserves. If things went south then he'd need all of the energy he could get to escape.

The first few pale rays from the sun were peeking through the thick canopy when Ron was kicked awake. He gave an involuntary cry of pain as the iron boot smashed into his side, immediately becoming alert and on the defensive. The creature laughed in sadistic amusement at Ron's pain as it untied the rope around the tree.

Ron clenched his teeth in anger, just wishing he had his wand with him. He licked his dry and cracked lips as he imagined killing these creatures. A simple Avada Kedavra would be too kind on these monsters, Ron wanted to cause them pain. If he ever found out that they had even touched Hermione there would be no place on Earth that these creatures could hide from him.

The monster roughly threw Ron over its shoulder like a sack and set off with its companions. Each step caused a flash of pain through Ron's newly injured side and he fervently hoped that none of his ribs were broken.

To keep his mind from dwelling on the agony his body was in, Ron looked to his surroundings in an attempt to figure out where he was. The trees around him still looked the same as they had when Ron had first come to this place. Old trees, with thick gnarled roots protruding from the ground and trunks wider than any in the Forbidden Forest. Ron sighed a hopeless sigh. He wasn't Hermione, he couldn't figure it out.

Ron was wrenched from his thoughts as the three creatures suddenly stopped. There was a quick guttural conversation before they peered out into the surrounding forest, fingering their weapons nervously. Something had them on edge, and Ron didn't know if that was a good thing. Ron lifted his head and strained to see anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing. But he could feel it, a subtle tension in the air. It was menacing and dangerous. Ron couldn't help the cold sweat that broke on his forehead, or was it just fever? The world did seem a bit blurry, hazy around the edges.

Ron's sight seemed to spin, the dark greens and browns of the forest blurred together. He started to panic, he couldn't see. The world stopped spinning and Ron realised he was laying on the ground. The rich earthy scent from the dirt was a welcome relief from the putrid stench of the creatures. Did the monster drop him? He moved his head to the side, the world spinning once again as he did so, and saw the creature standing there with its weapon raised.

_It is afraid. Why is the creature afraid? What is there?_

Ron strained to hear anything that could cause the creatures fear. But there was nothing. Just silence. He meant to raise his head to see, but he felt weighed down. It was as though some unseen force had settled on top of him, refusing to let him move. Darkness clawed at the edge of his vision, he could not focus his sight.

The creature that had been carrying him suddenly jerked and fell to the ground, felled by some unseen foe. Ron could feel it then, the magic that hung in the air. The dangerous magic focused on the creatures, yet so calming toward him. Ron's sight was filled with darkness but he saw the figure emerge from the trees. It was glowing, the white light so bright that it burnt. He could feel the magic rolling off them in powerful waves. Ron couldn't see except for the blinding light, but he knew, he was saved and he was safe.

_Harry has come. _Ron thought with a smile on his face as the darkness finally claimed him.

* * *

Hermione was irritable. Her whole body ached from riding. The past days had blurred together as the scenery remained unchanging. Hermione knew that they must have covered quite a distance yet the only change in her surroundings was that the great forest she had appeared in was no longer in her sights.

Days were spent on horseback, riding from sunrise to sunset with few chances at rest. Éomer was her constant companion. Hermione still continued to ride with him and Éomer constantly talked to her, pointing out different sights along the way. She only half listened to him and mostly let the unfamiliar language wash over her as her thoughts whirled around her mind. Éomer ate with her, always making sure she had plenty to eat and drink.

Hermione's nights were usually spent around the fire, with Éomer, or alone in her borrowed bedroll. Around the campfire the men shared stories or sang songs. They had the bond of brotherhood, and Hermione felt very much the outsider. It was in these times she would retreat to her bedroll and gaze up at the starry sky. Depressing thoughts would come unbidden to her mind and a few stray tears would fall. Her dreams were often invaded by nightmares filled with Death Eaters, Horcruxes and dead friends. Hermione would wake in tears too afraid to fall back asleep. This left her feeling drained, with little hope in her heart.

The sun was almost upon its zenith when the company of riders stopped for a rest. Éomer helped Hermione down from his horse then led her to a rock to sit on. Hermione stubbornly refused to be carried even though her leg injury was still quite painful, but relished the chance to stretch her cramping muscles.

When she had risen that morning Hermione felt a change in the men and horses. They were more relaxed and carefree and the horses had acquired an additional burst of energy. She hoped that this meant they were closing in on their destination, wherever that was. Hermione hoped that wherever they were headed had a bath, a bed and some decent food. It was too much to ask for it to have someone who understands English.

She also craved female company. The men were being nice, kind and attentive to her but it was with a reserved quality, as if it was expected of them. Their behaviour led Hermione to believe that this was some kind of medieval society where women were there to be seen and not heard. Hermione was used to being around males all the time since Harry and Ron were her best friends, but she still had female company at Hogwarts.

Éomer handed Hermione a chunk of bread then sat down beside her. He immediately started chatting away about nothing in particular. Occasionally he would look at her and Hermione would smile and nod her head pretending to be listening, but her thoughts were always elsewhere.

It wasn't long before the party once again set off on their journey. Hermione prayed that they would reach their destination soon as she was reaching the end of her tolerance for horse riding. Not only was it painful and uncomfortable but it was incredibly slow compared to apparating or even driving.

It was several long hours later when Éomer suddenly stopped talking. This caught Hermione's attention immediately. She quickly scanned the surroundings for any imminent threat, but couldn't see anything. As the party reached the top of the small hill that they were riding up Hermione saw the distinct outline of a city. Her alertness was quickly replaced with relief. She could almost cry with joy. That night she could possibly have a bed to sleep in with a nice dinner and a bath. Éomer laughed at Hermione's reaction to seeing Rohan's capital city, Edoras.

Knowing that they would arrive at the city before nightfall, Hermione forgot her aching body and irritableness. Éomer started talking once again probably about the city that they were heading to. Hermione had to admire the fact that he had kept up a total one sided conversation the whole way. He was either trying to distract her with something or he just loved to talk to himself since it was clear that most of the time he wasn't talking to the other men.

The great wooden gates were opened to let the men and their horses in. Hermione looked around at the city. It was a simple city, nothing like the cities from back home, but it was beautiful in a rustic way. The structures and layout seemed medieval and so did the people. The buildings were made from wood and stone and had clearly been built years ago. The main streets were cobbled but most other paths were dirt. Women were wearing long practical dresses and the men were wearing tunics. Some stared and greeted the riders as they entered but their attention was drawn to Hermione. Her cheeks became flushed with all the attention that she was receiving and was reminded about her dirty appearance as well as her out of place clothes.

After Éomer had given his horse over to the stable boy he took Hermione to the healer. When they got their Éomer spent a few minutes talking to the motherly woman while gesturing to Hermione. He then turned to Hermione saying a few things, gave her a smile and then left.

While the healer took in Hermione's appearance she did the same. The healer was most likely in her forties but she had a kind face with few wrinkles. She had long greying blonde hair that was braided around her head. She had kind blue eyes and a soft expression. The healer wore a simple brown dress and apron with some worn leather boots.

After a few seconds the healer introduced herself as 'Lieve' with a genuine smile. She got Hermione to sit on the bed then undid the bandage on her leg. Although Hermione was sure that Éomer had told Lieve that she didn't understand their language, Lieve merrily chatted away as she worked on Hermione's injury.

Hermione curiously watched Lieve work, twinging every now and then in pain. Like most other things in this strange world, the medical profession was also clearly medieval. There were many herbs and salves around the room and a few bone and iron surgical instruments. Hermione mentally reminded herself to heal her leg herself when nobody was looking, she didn't want to chance an infection.

After she was done Lieve showed Hermione the bath then laughed at Hermione's excitement. She showed Hermione where the soaps and towels were then left the room. When the door was shut Hermione practically ripped off her clothes then jumped into the bath. The water was nice and warm and she grabbed a bar of soap and started washing all the blood and dirt from her body.

After she had thoroughly scrubbed her body and washed her hair, Hermione leant back against the bath and closed her eyes. The warm water was the perfect thing to soothe her saddle sores and aching muscles.

As she lay in the water Hermione let her mind wander. Rohan reminded her of Hogwarts in a way. Even though Hogwarts was full of magic, it was built during medieval times and continues to be far behind in technology from the rest of the modern world. It was a great stone castle which wouldn't look too out of place here. Hermione began to reminisce over her first few years at Hogwarts. While she had the odd adventure with her two best friends, Hogwarts was fun, and safe. There was no Voldemort, Death Eaters or wizarding war. Just her, Harry, Ron and her beloved classes.

A tear slid down her face and fell into the water causing small ripples. Hermione looked in confusion as another tear fell. Then everything seemed to hit her at once. All the negative emotions she had been suppressing since the start of the war burst to the surface. Hermione hugged her knees and sobbed. She wept for her dead friends and family, for all those affected by the war, for her dear sweet friends Harry and Ron, for the failure of their horcrux quest, for the bizarre and hopeless situation she was now in, and lastly for herself.

Hermione's cries must have alerted Lieve because the next thing Hermione knew was that she was being held and someone was murmuring soothing words. Lieve held Hermione until her sobs diminished. Like drawing poison from a wound, the release of her pent up emotions left Hermione feeling much better.

The bath water had long gone cold and goose bumps had begun to appear on Hermione's bare skin. She felt completely embarrassed that she had completely broken down, in the bath, naked, while being comforted by an old woman. The more Hermione thought about it, the more embarrassed she became. Her face flush with embarrassment, Hermione turned to face Lieve and profusely apologised. Lieve just smiled with sympathy and understanding in her eyes.

Lieve held up a towel for Hermione who gratefully got out of the cold bath. As Hermione began to dry herself Lieve gave a sudden gasp of horror. Before she could react, Lieve had pulled Hermione's arm towards her. Then Hermione understood and bent her head in shame, subtly shielding the other curse scar on her chest from view. On her arm it was blood red, standing out in stark contrast to her pale skin and was the reminder of her time as a guest of Bellatrix Lestrange. The word 'mudblood' was carved into her skin on her forearm.

Not wanting to think about her time in Malfoy Mansion, Hermione yanked her arm out of Lieve's and looked at her pleadingly. Lieve had tears in her eyes even without knowing what was said in that strange language. She seemed to understand Hermione's plea as she gestured for her to stay, then left the room.

Hermione sighed as she finished drying herself, carefully steering her thoughts away from what was on her arm. Lieve came back in with a bundle of clothes in her hands and presented them to Hermione. She gratefully accepted them and Lieve left to let her get changed on her own. In the bundle was a cream coloured shift, simple brown dress and soft leather shoes. They were clearly handmade and well-worn but Hermione was thankful that she wouldn't stand out, much.

After dressing and making sure that she had her beaded bag, Hermione left the room in search of Lieve. The motherly woman was sitting by the fire mending a dress and smiled at Hermione when she entered the room. After drying Hermione's hair by the fire Lieve braided it into an elaborate braid, chatting all the while. Hermione smiled and nodded her head in silent thanks.

It wasn't long after that Éomer came back into the healer's house. He had also washed, changed and combed his hair. Éomer greeted Hermione and Lieve with a smile and warm words. Lieve then began talking rapidly with him and every now and then they both would look over to Hermione. At one particular instance Éomer looked over at Hermione in horror and started towards her however Lieve kept him back. Hermione didn't even need to guess what they were talking about but felt somewhat self-conscious and wished she could understand what they were saying.

Eventually Éomer walked over to Hermione with a smile but Hermione could see the underlying sadness in his eyes. She hoped that Éomer wouldn't treat her even more like a fragile lady then he previously did, but that was a long shot after what he just heard. He held out his arm, which Hermione hesitantly took, then lead her across the room towards the door. Before she left though, Lieve gave Hermione a big hug and kiss on the temple and sent her off with a warm smile.

The sun was setting and most people were in their homes preparing for dinner. There were only a few people out in the streets and they all stared unabashedly at Hermione. It reminded her of the time when Viktor Krum had taken her to the Yule Ball in her fourth year and everyone had stared at her. Normally it was Harry who received all of the attention and she wasn't used to it. She felt a blush rise on her cheeks but she refused to be cowed by these people.

Éomer was escorting her towards the building of the top of the hill. Hermione figured that it housed the mayor or lord of this city. Suddenly she was nervous. As if sensing her change in mood Éomer began to idly chat pointing things out to her as they went. Hermione's nerves settled but she still remained a little tense. She distracted herself by looking at the beautiful carvings on the building that she was being led to. Many of the carvings were of horses and they were expertly done.

As they reached the top of the stairs that led up to the main entrance Hermione was glad she had healed her leg back in the healer's house otherwise her leg would have been awfully sore. There were guards stationed at the entrance who were fully equipped with deadly weapons. Hermione gulped and subtly moved closer to Éomer as they entered as the guards looked at her with open suspicion.

Éomer led her through the building until they reached the dining room. Hermione could hear a murmur of merry conversation and the delicious smell of food which made her stomach rumble. When they entered the dining hall everyone stared. Hermione felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she mentally grumbled at how she wasn't even that exciting. Éomer led her over to the table which was still being loaded with food. At the head of the table was a man with a crown on his head, a king, who smiled and greeted Hermione as if she was a part of his family. Éomer sat down next to someone and introduced her as 'Éowyn'. She bore striking resemblance to Éomer and Hermione wondered if they were related. Éowyn had long blonde hair that fell in waves down her back. She had a pale face with light blue eyes and greeted Hermione kindly.

Hermione was glad when they started eating for she was starving. The food was rustic but hearty and filling. She let the conversation wash over her but she unobtrusively observed the dynamic of this society. The king was greatly respected but not feared and had a companionship with his subjects. She could see which men at the table were superior to others but observed that they all were at least friendly with each other as laughter and cheer were abundant.

It wasn't long before Hermione was full so she patiently waited for what was to come after. There were dogs running around the floor eating scraps and gnawing on bones. One dog in particular was a large black dog which painfully reminded her of Harry's godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius was pushed through the veil of death in a battle at the Ministry of Magic. His death weighed heavily and all of them, especially Harry, as it was their stupid actions that caused the situation in the first place. In a way that battle was a real eye opener and wake up call to the children. It was after that battle that they threw themselves into training. It taught them that war wasn't just a game, it was real, and it was deadly.

The hall eventually cleared out leaving the king, what Hermione assumed were his senior advisors, a man not much older than Éomer, Éomer himself and surprisingly Éowyn. Hermione immediately became tense a nervous knot grew in her stomach. The King and his advisors were examining her with serious expressions on their faces.

Hermione met the king's gaze. From what she had observed, he was a just ruler and so she was confident that he wouldn't just chuck her out. He had soft blue eyes, like Éomer and Éowyn. Were they family? It was the king who broke their gaze as he began to speak with Éomer. Hermione felt as though she had passed some sort of test and was quite relieved.

After a short exchange Éowyn stood from the table and gestured for Hermione to follow her. Surprised that it was over so quickly, Hermione stood.

"Thank you Éomer for all you have done for me. And thank you your highness for your hospitality," Hermione said with a small curtsey knowing that although they wouldn't understand her, her sentiment would still be expressed.

With a nod from the king and a smile from Éomer, Hermione followed Éowyn out of the hall suddenly feeling a lot better about her situation.

* * *

Harry was numb. He didn't know what to feel. The rancid stench burnt his nose and made him want to gag. Black Night Scales tightened her hold around his leg in comfort.

It had been two days after he met Black Night Scales that Harry returned to the exact place where he lost Ron and Hermione. It was a couple of hours after that where his faithful companion told him that his two best friends had split up.

Harry didn't know who to go after first. Hermione had been injured but after that point she had not been followed by those creatures, orcs as Black Night Scales called them, whereas Ron seemed to have been captured by them. He knew that Ron would want him to go after Hermione and Black Night Scales said that orcs were nasty, vile creatures and that Ron would most likely be dead by now. But Harry couldn't, wouldn't leave Ron for dead unless he knew the absolute truth. Hermione was smart, and mostly likely had her beaded bag with her she would be fine. So Harry and Black Night Scales set off following Ron's trail.

After three days of anxious tracking they had come across this scene. A pile of rancid ash that could only be the remains of bodies. Their corpses had disintegrated but still emitted a vile smell, of death and decay. The very ground beneath the pile had blackened as though it was being poisoned by the foul remains.

They were the remains of the orcs, Black Night Scales had said. Yet she couldn't find any trail belonging to Ron leading away from the area. The carcasses had burnt hot enough that it was impossible to tell whether Ron was a part of the pile or not. Harry himself had looked for any tracks that could have belonged to his friend. No tracks could be seen, no one had left the area. Had Ron used accidental magic to protect himself from the creatures then somehow become a victim of his own flames?

Harry felt sick. One of his best friends was mostly there, in that pile. The ashes of his loyal and first friend, mixed in with the evil ashes of monsters. It wasn't fair, for Ron having survived Voldemort's forces only to die in the few short days that had been in this place. Everyone Harry loved always ended up dying. He fists clenched against his sides in anger at the injustice of it all.

_But I still have Hermione. If she's still alive._

Without looking back Harry stalked off, back the way they had come. Desperation in his eyes. He had to find Hermione for Harry did not know what to do with himself if he ended up alone again. Black Night Scales uncoiled from around his leg, slithering out in front to easily show the young Istari their path.

Harry's grief caused waves of wild magic to cascade across the ground. Leaves swayed in flurries of non-existent wind and loose dirt was swept up in soft eddies with each step. Small tendrils touched the ancient hearts of the surrounding trees, rousing them from their long slumber. These ancient bodies focussed their attention on the young grief-stricken Istari as he strode past.

The anguish emanating from the Istari caused a stir within the trees. They began to whisper, asking questions as they fully awakened from their sleep. Answers came from those who were conscious at the time of the pulse of the forest. But with answers came more questions. Whispered conversations rippled across the whole forest, stirring the many who were still slumbering.

Fangorn Forest as a whole was awakening, change was occurring as ancient magic stirred. The grief of the young Istari was uniting the forest and the trees, who for so long only considered themselves, looked to the outside world. They saw trouble brewing, war on the horizon, and they would be ready, they would help.

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**A/N: So what did you guys think? Reviews are welcome! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! Sorry it took longer to upload than the other chapters, I've had exams and I've also had to sit down and try to plan where I want to take this story (I'm still not entirely sure). Thanks to all who have reviewed, its much appreciated. Also several of you have mentioned pairings. I hadn't actually thought about pairings, so I don't know. However, I am open for suggestions and ideas about any aspect of this story.**

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**Chapter 4:**

Hermione groaned as a pale ray of light settled across her eyes, forcing her into the waking world. She glared, as best as she could in her sleepy state, at the offending crack in the shutters whilst wishing for more sleep. Knowing it to be a lost cause, Hermione threw back her warm covers and jumped out of bed.

Her thin shift did nothing to protect her against the brisk morning air, yet provided an effective means to wake up properly. Hermione hastily pulled on the thick green dress Éowyn had given her and washed her face in the basin. The stones beneath her bare feet sapped her warmth so she slipped on her boots then ripped open her shutters.

A small breeze blew into the room toying with Hermione's hair. It was just after sunrise and yet so many people were already up and about. Hermione had been in, what she had learnt to be, Edoras for a week so far and every morning she would watch the city's inhabitants go about their work or just to gaze down at the city.

The citizens of Edoras, true to her original assessment, were simple people living in a medieval way of life. They loved their horses and were very proud and hard working. They knew of the dangers outside of their city, but so far the city itself was untouched. Hermione was somewhat jealous. She would love to live a nice simple life, a life with the illusion of safety. But after all she's seen and done, it wasn't possible.

There was a gentle knock on her door, stirring Hermione from her watch. Éowyn entered with a smile, clothed in a white dress with her blonde hair loose.

"_Good morning, Penelope Clearwater," _Éowyn greeted in the common speech with her smile widening.

"_Morning, Éowyn," _Hermione replied with a slight smile, or twitch of the lips.

Hermione's days at Edoras were spent by following Éowyn around. It was apparently Éowyn's task of teaching her the common speech but it was a frustratingly slow process. All Hermione had learnt in her time here were a few pleasantries, simple words and items, not the words that Hermione needed.

"_Penelope Clearwater, breakfast," _Éowyn said as she beckoned Hermione.

Hermione sighed. She let her hand fall to her thigh, where she had hidden a dagger, to reassure herself that it was there, then began to follow. After breakfast would be another wasteful day. She needed to be looking for her friends and Voldemort's horcrux, not following Éowyn around as she did her duties.

Éowyn happily chatted as they walked to the dining hall, a trait she shared with her brother. Hermione occasionally recognised a few simple words but was unable to piece together what she was saying.

The king and Éomer were in the hall when Hermione and Éowyn entered. The king greeted her with a kind smile and sympathy in his eyes. It was the same every morning. She knew he had been told about her scar, they had all been told. It wasn't hard to know when everyone you met gave you looks of sympathy and gentle words. Her dirty secret, one she tried so hard to hide, was known by so many.

Éomer greeted her with a wide smile. He had thankfully stopped looking at her in sympathy, for which she was grateful. Then she could pretend that he didn't know her shame. She saw it sometimes though when he didn't think she was looking, the look of pity and minor suspicion.

Hermione knew she was being carefully watched. Her every action monitored and reported back to the King. Éowyn wasn't just a friendly guide and companion, she was a guard. The King wasn't just a welcoming host, he was a jailer. Edoras wasn't just Hermione's refuge, it was her prison. She knew she wasn't allowed to leave, at least not until they were sure of her loyalties.

Hermione's breakfast tasted dry and flavourless in her mouth. Éowyn was pointing out several dishes and saying their name. Hermione dutifully repeated them but her heart wasn't in it, what use to her were the names of food? So far she had found out nothing useful about her situation, she didn't even know where she was in relation to anywhere else.

A sudden idea sparked in her mind. Her eyes lit up and turned to Éowyn who was in conversation with Éomer.

"Éowyn," Hermione interrupted.

The brother and sister both looked at her, she had never initiated a conversation before.

"Book?" Hermione said while miming reading. Hopefully Éowyn understood and took her to the library, if Edoras had a library. Hermione wished to be able to look at a map, but had no idea how to communicate that.

Éowyn and Éomer both looked at each other and had a short conversation before leading Hermione through the halls. They stopped at a thick wooden door. It opened to reveal a small library. Hermione could hardly contain her excitement as she took in the rows of scrolls and thick books of parchment.

Éowyn moved before her and picked up the nearest book.

"Book?" she uncertainly asked.

"Yes, book!" Hermione said with joy. Even books written in an entirely different language were able to fill her with delight, she only wished she was able to read them.

"_Book," _Éowyn repeated in the common tongue for Hermione.

Hermione repeated the word with a smile, a useful word at last. Now, how to find where the maps were. She browsed through the isles under the watchful gazes of the siblings. Hermione admired the handwritten books. Many simply had leather covers, some were gilded others were so old that their ink was fading. The language while beautiful, was completely unfamiliar in writing as it was in speech.

Finally she saw something partially covered with a piece of parchment on a workbench in the corner. Hermione hurried over to it and uncovered a map. It looked to be a map of the building she was staying in, but now she had something to work with.

"_Edoras," _Hermione said pointing to the map, then she spread her arms out.

Éowyn looked confused but Éomer gasped in understanding. He went over to one of the isles and pulled out a larger scroll. He rolled it out on the workbench revealing a map that looked to depict the country that she was in.

"_Thank you Éomer! Thank you!" _ Hermione cheered.

The map way painstakingly illustrated. Cities and towns were labelled in what Hermione assumed was the common tongue. Some parts of the map were unlabelled, perhaps those areas hadn't been explored. Nothing looked familiar to Hermione. None of the natural landmarks or the location of cities and towns. Hermione was definitely lost in an unknown world. She already knew it, but to have it confirmed was something else.

Éomer caught Hermione's attention and pointed to a place on the map.

"_Edoras," _he told her.

Then he moved his finger north to the forest.

"_Fangorn Forest, Penelope Clearwater," _

Hermione nodded. So that's where he found her.

Now that she had found a map, Hermione didn't know what to do. She knew next to nothing of this world. Her eyes roamed longingly around the room. If only she could read this language, or even speak it, then she'd be able to find answers. Hermione fought back a cry of frustration.

A strong hand gripped Hermione's arm.

_Malfoy Manor. No! Greyback. Get off! Stop!_

Hermione's eyes widened in fear as the memories assaulted her. She spun around and lashed out at her attacker. The hand immediately let go and Hermione hastily backed away. Then she felt it, magic humming at her fingertips with silver song, dancing over her skin in ivory swirls and crackling through her hair like lightening. It was like the reunion of a long lost friend, her magic was still with her, it was her one hope in this terrible situation, the light from a candle in the overwhelming darkness.

Then it hit her. She wasn't in Malfoy Manor. She was in the library in Edoras. Hermione gasped in horror at what she'd done. She looked to find Éomer standing in front of Éowyn, his blue eyes widened in shock and a small bit of horror but mostly apology. Why was Éomer apologising to her? She was the one who attacked him, not the other way around.

Hermione dimly noted the magic leave her system but she was more worried about Éomer's and Éowyn's reactions. Would she be labelled as an enemy of the city and thrown in the dungeon? Were they going to have her killed for being a witch, burnt at the stake? Hermione began to panic, she couldn't die for she had so much to do, so many people to help.

Her feet unconsciously took a few steps backwards away from the siblings, fear in her eyes. This movement seemed to move Éomer into action as he quickly put up his hands and began to approach her in a calm manner, much like he did when Éomer first found her in Fangorn Forest.

Éomer didn't look to be about to take her into custody or kill her. But Hermione remembered the look of horror in his eyes. He could be placating her only to go in for the strike when she let her guard down.

Hermione's back hit the wall. She was momentarily confused as she hadn't realised she was still moving backwards. Éomer continued to slowly approach her, murmuring calmingly until he was in front of her. The whole time he had not lifted his gaze from hers and even as he reached out to grab her he did not drop it. Hermione flinched as she felt his hands close over hers but did not stop him, his eyes evoked a trust in her that she did not want to give.

Éomer's grip tightened around her right hand while he forcefully said something. Hermione didn't understand him but looked down. Clenched in her right hand was a beautiful jewelled dagger. The sharp silver blade reflected the look of horror in her eyes, the triplet sapphires inlaid into the goblin crafted hilt. The dagger, nicknamed 'Raven's Claw', had been in its holster on her thigh. Hermione didn't remember ever retrieving it.

_Crap! I've pulled a dagger on members of the royal family!_

The fingers clenched around the hilt of the dagger let go as if it were poison and Éomer gently took it from her grasp. Hermione remained staring at her empty hand, her mind in a panicked haze. She was dimly aware that Éomer was calling for someone. Was he calling for the guards? No, he was calling for a woman, but it wasn't Éowyn.

"_Penelope Clearwater," _Éomer was calling again for the woman, but the words seemed so far away.

Somewhere in her mind she realised that he was saying her name, or rather the name she had given them. Hermione forced her gaze away from her hand and met his eyes. Éomer's eyes were a nice light blue, like the sky on a beautiful sunny day. But they looked worried, why was he worried? She saw his lips moving, speaking, but Hermione couldn't hear. Was she now deaf? But she could hear a faint whooshing sound, like the waves crashing on the shore.

Then Hermione realised she was shaking. Was Éomer still holding onto her to stop her from physically falling apart? Is that why he was worried, he didn't want to clean up pieces of Hermione from the floor? She almost laughed at the image of him using a broom and dustpan to sweep her up. Then she felt the cold. It was a numbing cold, especially in her arms and legs. A feeling began to creep up on her, like something was tightening around her chest, with every second it became larger, her chest felt like it would soon burst.

That's when Hermione realised she had stopped breathing. That's why Éomer was worried. Hermione took a gasping breath and sank to the ground. The tightness in her chest had barely lessened and she struggled to breathe. With each shuddering breathe, her chest began to unwind.

The analytical part of Hermione's brain reasoned that she was having a panic attack while the other part of her brain was telling the analytical side to shove off. The panic attack eventually subsided leaving Hermione feeling cold and ashamed, but not alone. She was still on the ground but she was laying against Éomer's chest and he was rubbing her back in a soothing manner. Éowyn was kneeling in front of her holding her hands and speaking comforting words.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me. I don't know what came over me," Hermione desperately apologised. But she knew what had come over her, too long had she locked away her worst memories to fester and now at the slightest provocation they were consuming her.

Éowyn must have understood her because she was shaking her head with a sympathetic smile. She then began speaking rapidly with a small amount of excitement. Hermione understood none of it but one word stood out to her, _'Istari'_.

* * *

Éowyn closed the door softly behind her. Penelope Clearwater was currently asleep, her panic attack had left her feeling tired. Éowyn loathed to leave her alone for she seemed so small and vulnerable, but she didn't want company. Éomer was leaning against the wall lost in thought. He looked up and without a word they both headed in the direction of their uncle's study, he had to know what had occurred.

When Éomer had first told her that he found a strange young woman lost and injured, Éowyn had only given the girl a passing thought. But when he had said she had no knowledge of the common tongue Éowyn became intrigued. How does one not even know common speech? As Éomer continued to describe the strange woman, Éowyn became more and more interested and was pleased when her uncle said he wanted to see the girl for himself and to invite her to dinner.

When Éomer had arrived to dinner with her, Éowyn's first thought was that she was merely average. Plain brown hair and eyes, small stature and a seemingly meek personality. The colour rose in the girl's cheeks as everybody grew silent in observation. Éowyn saw how the girl subconsciously leaned in closer to Éomer as some emotion flashed through her eyes.

What surprised Éowyn though was how Éomer subconsciously moved slightly in front of the girl, as though protecting her. Then Éowyn saw her brother's eyes. Hidden behind a façade of a pleasant nature was distress and anger. Éowyn was sure that those emotions had not been there when he went to retrieve the girl, so what exactly had transpired? Was it the reason for her brother's protectiveness? Éowyn shuffled the thought away to ask her brother later.

Éowyn greeted the strange woman warmly and spent the rest of the night subtly observing her. The girl was observing everything around her with a curious expression. From the food that was being served to the people at the table and what they were wearing. But Éowyn saw underneath the curiosity a cold and calculating expression, noting who was important and how each person interacted. Éomer had told her of his thoughts and suspicions but could this girl actually be a spy?

When the strange woman held the king's gaze Éowyn was slightly impressed. There were some grown men who could not hold her uncle's gaze. Perhaps this girl wasn't as meek as she originally thought. So when her uncle asked her to look after the girl Éowyn was quite happy to. If she was a spy or something along those lines then Éowyn would be the first to find out. If she wasn't then Éowyn knew there was more to this girl than it seemed and it would prove interesting to find out.

But when Éomer told her about the girl's, Penelope Clearwater's, scar Éowyn's heart went out to her. Who could do such a thing to a person? What type of life had Penelope Clearwater lived? Was she escaping those who hurt her? Whatever the case was, Éowyn vowed to be there for Penelope Clearwater and to be a friend to her.

Over the past week Éowyn had found that Penelope Clearwater was no way near the meek girl she thought she was. Penelope Clearwater was fiercely independent, much like Éowyn herself was. Through the limited conversation they were able to have she found that Penelope had a sharp mind and was a quick learner.

Penelope Clearwater was also quite good at hiding her emotions. She would always make note of the exits in every room and scout out any potential threat upon entering a new area. Each new person she met was treated with caution and hidden suspicion. Éowyn found these traits to be quite disturbing and couldn't help but wonder why she would need them.

It delighted Éowyn that morning when she saw the sparks of fierce determination and purpose in Penelope's eyes. It also pleased Éowyn to see her genuinely happy at being shown the library and then the map. But Éowyn watched as her face fell while she appeared to be searching for something but not finding it. In an attempt to help Éomer pointed out where they were and where they found her.

Penelope Clearwater had cast her eyes around at the books with a longing and frustrated expression. Éowyn knew her brother only meant to comfort Penelope and neither of them expected such an intense reaction and had growing sorrow for what it might mean.

The look of intense fear in her eyes caused Éowyn a pang of grief. But that was quickly overcome by shock. Penelope became surrounded by tendrils of varying hues of silver ever moving and changing as though they had a mind of their own. Like living lightening the tendrils in her hair, the colour of starlight, zapped around her like a warning for the siblings to stay away. Bright ivory tendrils seemed to caress her skin offering comfort and protection. Around her hands, liquid silver pulsed with excited energy begging to be used.

Penelope Clearwater struck an impressive and powerful figure, even more so when the silver dagger appeared in her hands out of thin air. Éowyn could see that Penelope knew how to use it, and had used it before. Éomer positioned himself in front of her but did not draw his own dagger for it was clear that Penelope was afraid and not in control of her actions.

When Penelope Clearwater came to her senses her magic faded away. Her fear turned into horror and her horror turned into panic. Éowyn could only guess at what was going through Penelope's mind. Éomer approached her as one would a wild animal speaking words of comfort. Éowyn saw Penelope's confusion when she realised she was holding a dagger at them. She watched as the confusion morphed into more panic.

Penelope Clearwater's face had drained of all blood, she had started to shake and stopped breathing. Éomer tried to get her to snap out of it and both of them were getting increasingly worried. But eventually Penelope took some shuddering breaths and fell to the floor. Éowyn had gone and knelt with her and the three of them stayed in that position until Penelope's panic attack had subsided.

Only then did Éowyn process what had happened. Penelope Clearwater was an Istari! Éowyn had never heard of a female Istari, especially one who looked so young. Had the Valar sent Penelope to them at the fore front of war to provide aide to the people of the Mark? But Penelope was clearly damaged and emotionally unstable. Éowyn shook her head, she was not one to know the will of the Valar.

Éowyn's thoughts were cut short as they arrived at their uncle's study. After a moment of hesitation Éomer knocked on the thick wooden door. They received a call to enter and their uncle's warm greeting quickly turned to worry when he saw their expressions.

"_My children, what has happened? What is wrong?" _King Théoden asked with a frown.

Éomer looked over at her in silent question and she nodded. He then began to tell their uncle the events of day. Théoden was shocked to learn of a female Istari, grieved to think what would cause Penelope Clearwater to have such a reaction and furious to find out that somebody had caused the girl so much harm.

After Éomer had finished telling the events, the King remained silent as he contemplated what he had heard. Éomer also handed over Penelope's dagger for his uncle to inspect. Éowyn was finally able to get a proper look at the dagger.

The hilt of the dagger looked to be a navy coloured metal and it had silver snaking around it. Three sapphires of the same colour, shape and size were inlaid across the length of the hilt, evenly spaced. The blade itself gleamed wickedly in the candle light and had a slight curve to it. One side of it had an inscription engraved along the whole edge of the blade. The dagger looked ceremonial but deadly and seemed to have a kind of other-worldly power emanated from it. But if this was and Istari's dagger then who knew what magical powers it possessed.

"_An impressive dagger. It radiates power. Fitting for an Istari," _the King said after some time.

"_Do you know why she's here uncle?" _Éowyn asked.

"_No. I do not. She could have been sent by the Valar either to aide us, or to heal. She could have run away to start a new life. Or she could merely be here by chance. Fate works in mysterious ways," _her uncle replied.

"_Well I for one am not going to let her go back to where she came from," _Éomer said vehemently.

Éowyn nodded in agreement. Whatever her reason for being here, she wasn't going back to the people that hurt her.

The three of them spent the next couple of minutes in discussion about Penelope Clearwater where they decided that no one else should know about her being an Istari. However, their uncle still had work to do and reports to read so the brother and sister bade him a good afternoon and excused themselves. Éomer went to go and vent some of his anger down in the sparring yard while Éowyn decided to go and check on Penelope.

Éowyn was too lost in her thoughts as she walked down the passage that she failed to notice a figure lurking in the shadows by the King's door. A figure who was holding the very map of the Golden Hall of Meduseld that Penelope had seen earlier. And a figure who had seen the whole event from behind one of the bookshelves. A dark smirk formed on the figure's face as they walked in the opposite direction, their eyes glinting in malice.

* * *

Harry casually leant against the trunk of a tree on the edge of the great forest. The sun was approaching the horizon causing the shadows to lengthen. His grey eyes calmly scanned the vast planes that were rolled out before him. However the tightness around his eyes and jaw, and the clenching of his hands betrayed the anxious state of his mind. Harry's eyes occasionally flickered to the majestic serpent who was slithering back and forth.

By the time Harry and Black Night Scales had arrived at Hermione's trail, the scent was weak. Black Night Scales was able to follow the trail to a spot where it seemed her trail had abruptly ended in a puddle of blood. Harry's heart clenched upon seeing the dried up blood on the ground, Hermione had lost so much.

It had taken Black Night Scales a good hour to find the Hermione's faint trail leading away from that spot. His companion had said it was though someone had carried Hermione, but there were no other smells but the forest.

So the pair had painstakingly followed the faint trail to the edge of the forest where they lost it. Now Harry was waiting to see if Black Night Scales could find it again. As a large gust of wind from the planes snatched at his hair, Harry knew that the trail was lost. It had been around two weeks since Hermione had been in this location, the trail was long gone.

_I'm sorry Harry Potter, it has been too long. The trail has faded in the winds,_ Black Night Scales said apologetically as she slithered up.

Harry clenched his eyes shut just willing that this nightmare would disappear. He knew it, but to have Black Night Scales confirm it was something different. There was no way to find her, Hermione was lost to him.

Grief bubbled up within him and erupted in one long cry of anguish, echoed over the land. Harry sank to his knees and desperately clutched at his chest. It was too painful, what was the point of loving if losing them hurt so much? Harry's heart felt like it was breaking, he wanted it out. His fingers frantically clawed at his chest to stop its agony.

Harry knew nothing of his surroundings as he sank into the dark recesses of his mind. Every memory he had of his friends swam around him in taunting, each new memory causing a fresh wave of agony. He couldn't bear it, he shouldn't feel this way, and he had a job to do. Voldemort must die.

With a burning anger that drowned out any pain he felt, Harry forced his memories and emotions away. He locked them within the deepest part of his mind so they could no longer affect him and cause him unbearable agony. All that remained was anger burning black within him, the pain was gone.

Black Night Scales watched with sadness as her master fell to his knees in grief. Her sorrow turned to fear as her master released a raging torrent of wild magic. It whipped around him like a furious tornado, lashing out at anything in the vicinity. Black Night Scales felt the pure magic assault her and push her away. But she stayed her ground, her master needed her.

Then it was still. The surge of wild magic had ended almost as soon as it had begun. Her master was as still as a statue in a foetal position, no sign of the break down that he had just experienced. Black Night Scales could see flickers of black shadows dance across his skin. Her master smoothly raised his head. Dead grey eyes gazed unseeingly into the distance, flashes of something deeper and darker in their depths.

Her master rose silently to his feet. He pulled up his hood, casting his face in shadow. Then without even a glance in her direction he stalked off across the desolate planes into the growing shadows under the last light of day.

Black Night Scales warily watched her master for a moment. Harry Potter had died from grief and this shade of him borne from the remains. But he was her master nonetheless and she slithered off after him into the dying day.

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**A/N: And there you have it! I had planned on having a Ron viewpoint, but I got lazy so look forward to that next chapter! :P Reviews welcome!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Woo another chapter! :) Thanks to those who have expressed interest and review! Yes, they are all in pretty bad situations, but it will eventually get better.**

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**Chapter 5:**

**A/N:**

_abcd _= Dreams/visions  
"abcd" = English

_The enveloping darkness surrounding him was fading. Ron could see a faint light in the far off distance and it was rushing towards him like an oncoming train. It hit him in a blinding flash and when his eyes adjusted Ron found himself standing with his family in Kings Cross Station. The bustling crowd of Muggles around them. _

_His family all looked so much younger, and they were alive. Ron saw all of their school trunks, minus Ginny's, piled up on the trolleys. It was the first day of term, of his first year at Hogwarts. Ron remembered the day well, it was the day that he met Harry Potter. He glanced around, and sure enough he saw the familiar head of black hair in the crowd. _

_Ron had forgotten how small Harry was back then. The hand-me-down clothes only made him look smaller as they hung on his skinny frame. Harry's big green eyes were once again covered with broken glasses and his scar covered by his mop of ebony hair. He looked vulnerable and lonely, but a bright spark of hope shone within his emerald eyes. Ron had never seen his friend look so alone before. But Harry was alone before he came to Hogwarts, his family hated him. _

_He watched as Harry shyly made his way over to them and politely asked how to get onto the platform. Ron never would have guessed that this was Harry Potter the vanquisher of Voldemort. No one expected Harry to be so normal, so shy. _

_A great wind picked up in the station and Kings Cross began to crumble, washed away like a chalk drawing in the rain. Colours swirled before him before beginning to settle into a new scene. The first definite thing Ron saw was a fire, its flames flickered in the flurry of colours. Then the surroundings were set and Ron could feel the warmth of the fire touch his cheeks._

_He was sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Harry and Hermione. It was late at night and they were the only students up. Hermione's cheeks were slightly flushed as she laughed, her chocolate eyes sparkled in the light of the fire. Harry's green eyes glinted in amusement as he chuckled along with her. Ron himself was laughing with them. _

_He remembered this night. Harry had kissed Cho Chang and Hermione had just accused him of having an emotional range of a teaspoon. This was back when their lives hadn't gone to shit. A night filled with fun and laughter, where they could just let go and forget all of their worries. A pang went through Ron's chest. Nights like this were taken for granted, he would give anything to have them back._

_The wind picked up again distorting the surroundings, breaking them down until they were nothing but swirling colours. He was holding onto a rail, the wind was chilling his fingers but excitement surged through his veins. Then his view materialised and with it came a deafening roar. Before him was a sea of red and green but the main focus was the match. The Quidditch World cup between Bulgaria and Ireland. _

_Beside him were Harry and Hermione screaming themselves hoarse as they supported their chosen teams. His family were here too and it didn't even matter that the Malfoy's were in the viewing box with them. Ron was leaning out of the Ministry box to get a closer look at the game. He caught Harry's eyes and they both wore identical grins. _

_Harry's grin was the last thing Ron saw before the memory changed once again. A Christmas at the Burrow appeared in his vision but was gone as soon as it had come. Many more memories swam past him so fast that Ron barely even recognised what they were. The assault of memories became dizzyingly unbearable. Ron wanted to scream, he wanted them to stop! _

He felt like he was on fire and at the same time like he was covered in ice. Freezing drops of sweat rolled down his burning forehead. Ron's muscles ached and his injuries throbbed in pain. Nausea bubbled away in his stomach. Somewhere in Ron's mind he realised he was laying on a soft feather bed, the sheets drenched in sweat.

Ron's eyes fluttered as he struggled to open them. He let out a groan as the bright light assaulted him and immediately shut them again. Ron felt a cold hand on his forehead and he tried to shy away but his body wouldn't cooperate. With a struggle he tried to recall his last memories. They sluggishly came to him in disjointed flashes.

"Harry," Ron slurred as he remembered his last memory before he fell unconscious.

His eyes fluttered as he tried to look at Harry, who he assumed was with him. All he saw from amidst his hazy fevered vision was Harry's glowing silhouette.

"Hermione? Voldemort?" Ron tried to ask.

Harry shushed him and Ron felt something being pressed to his lips, so he drank. It was disgusting, whatever potion it was, and he struggled to keep down. Just being awake had drained whatever little energy he had left and Ron could feel himself being pulled back down into the land of dreams. He felt Harry pressing a cool cloth to his forehead which provided some relief as he slipped off into more fevered dreams.

_Like before, Ron was surrounded by the dark. He could vaguely see shapes just out of his reach. They were moving in a distorted and sluggish manner. Ron took a step forward to try and discern what they were. As his foot touched down there was an almighty smash and he instinctually ducked as a broken basin flew overhead. _

_Ron felt the familiarity of his wand clenched in his hand as he looked up at the scene revealing itself to him. The darkness was slowly receding to show Hermione crouched in fear underneath the basins as the great troll loomed over her with its club raised high. He saw chunks of broken wood, stone and porcelain being thrown, in an attempt to distract the troll, by Harry who was still cloaked in darkness at the edge of his memory. _

_He watched in a somewhat detached way, as their first trial played out. This start of the Golden Trio's friendship and setting a precedent of dangerous adventures throughout their school years. Hermione, who cowered in fear under the basin's but lied to the teachers to protect them. Harry, who selflessly and recklessly acted on instinct to stop the troll and save Hermione while using unorthodox methods. Then there was himself, who finished troll off by knocking it out with a simple spell. _

_As Ron gazed at the aftermath of the troll incident he noticed an odd clicking sound coming from behind him, and a cool breeze against his exposed skin. He spun around to find the ground beneath his feet was no longer the stone of the castle, but dirt and where the bathroom wall once stood was the open forest before him. _

_Harry was standing beside him, a lantern held in his hand, and Hagrid's dog Fang was cowering behind them. The trees around them were covered in thick silky webs. What had Ron's attention however were the thousands of beady eyes staring down at them in hunger. Harry was talking to Aragog but the words washed over Ron as the many Acromantula crept forward on their many legs, eager to have a bite to eat._

_Even in a memory long past and after all that Ron had gone through, the Acromantula still sparked an intense fear within him. Had he and Harry known the nest that they were walking into before they set off, would Ron still have gone? He and Harry had mainly gone into the forest seeking answers to try and help Hermione. At that time, was Hermione important enough to Ron for him to brave a large nest of Acromantula? _

_As that question whirled around his mind the Acromantula disappeared and the forest around him seemed to grow younger until it resembled an entirely different forest. Ron's breath misted as he exhaled and he watched as a light blanket of snow settled on the ground. _

_There was a splash of water and Ron turned to see an iced-over pond behind him. There was a hole in the ice, freshly cut, with a pile of clothes sitting by it. The inky water rippled in the night beneath the ice as it was disturbed, by Harry as he struggled to get to the surface. _

_The sword of Gryffindor lay at the bottom of the pond. The sword that Ron won the right to wield after he went in after Harry to save him. The sword that he had used to destroy the horcrux in Slytherin's locket. The sword that Harry had bound to his blood, as if it was his by rights._

_A luminescent orb smashed into the ice in front of him and Ron jumped back in shock, his wand raised in alarm. He felt his friends appear around him as more and more glowing spheres crashed down around them giving off mystical light in the darkness of the Hall of Prophecies._

_Ron was running, he had no clue of who he was running with. All he saw were the masked Death Eaters and flashing green spells. His own wand moved of its own accord, firing back at Voldemort's minions. Then Ron was hit with a spell, his memory glitched and the next thing he knew was being assaulted by a living brain. Its tendrils seared into his flesh as the physical manifestations of thoughts, imparting painful knowledge, and Ron struggled to get it off._

His hands struck the wall beside the bed as Ron's arms flailed about in an attempt to dislodge the brain in his memories. Ron emitted a pained groan as he became aware of his reality. In a reaction of reliving the memory, the faint scars left from the brain stung against his flesh as though the brain still had hold of him.

A cool hand pressed against his forehead, providing some relief from the fire burning within him. Even as the heat was unbearable an icy shiver wracked his frame. Ron's throat felt sore and parched as though he had been talking nonstop for quite some time. Once again he tried to open his eyes to examine his surroundings, but the light was too bright and caused a stabbing pain behind his eyes. All he caught sight of was Harry's outline sitting beside his bed, tending to him.

It was then that Ron noticed that the pain of his injuries had lessened and that his clothes had been changed. With his mind a little more lucid in his fever, Ron wondered where he was. Had Harry found Hermione and they were now inside the tent? Before Ron could dwell further, something was pressed against his lips to drink. He recognised it as the same potion as before, and drank it without question letting it take effect.

"_Voldemort's got Sirius," Harry's desperate voice echoed through the dark void Ron was suspended in._

_Ron couldn't see anything, couldn't feel anything._

"_Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam," Harry's voice answered some unspoken question. _

_Ron thought back to this day. The day the war really started, when the last of their childish innocence was shattered._

"_How're we going to get there?" _

"_Get there?" That was his own voice, it sounded so young and innocent. He hadn't sounded like that in years._

"_To the ministry to rescue Sirius!" Harry shouted as if it was obvious._

"_Harry. How did Voldemort get in without anyone seeing him, or Sirius for that matter? The ministry would be full of workers," Hermione's frightened voice echoed around through the dark._

_Ron nodded, Hermione was always the voice of reason in their group. She was mostly always right. So why didn't Harry listen to her? They could have avoided the whole fiasco! Sirius wouldn't have died!_

_The conversation continued around him, but Ron let it wash over him. He already knew how it went, he'd been over it so many times in guilt. It wasn't just Harry that had felt guilt about Sirius' death, they all did. For letting Harry go, for not trying hard enough to stop him. For being disposed of so easily in the Department of Mysteries and not being there to help Harry and Sirius. _

_But Harry was so stubborn. He had been so sure of himself and would have gone no matter what. Ron knew that if Harry had gone by himself he would have surely been captured and killed. _

_The conversation around him faded away and was replaced by sobbing. The heartbroken and angry cries resonated around Ron, tearing into him. They were Ginny's tears but they caused him pain too._

"_Go away Ron," Ginny weakly voiced._

"_Ginny," Ron's voice pleaded._

_Ron thought back to this conversation. It was the day of Dumbledore's funeral, the day that Harry had dumped Ginny. Ron had found her by the Black Lake crying her eyes out. If it had been anyone else but Harry Ron would have punched them._

"_I don't know what he's doing, but he'll go off by himself. Harry's stupid like that. He will need you and Hermione. He's always needed you and Hermione. Don't let him go by himself Ron, or he'll fail."_

_Ron remembered the intense stare that Ginny had levelled him with when she said that, the tears were still glistening in her eyes. And Harry had tried to go off on his own, sneaking away in the middle of the night. Harry would never have gotten anywhere without them. Ron had been so glad that he was on the lookout for something like that._

_There was a flash of red in the darkness and a flaming scrap of parchment floated past his view and into the distance._

"_Harry Potter," Dumbledore's voice called out._

_Rage, jealousy, hurt and betrayal flared up within Ron at once as Harry was named the fourth champion in the Triwizard Tournament. Harry always got everything! All the fame and glory. Even though he would have never made it far without him and Hermione. They never got any credit from anyone. It was always Harry. Why couldn't Ron for once have a chance at fame and glory? Life was so unfair!_

"_Then GO!" Harry roared in blazing anger, "Leave the Horcrux."_

"_What are you doing," Ron's enraged voice demanded of Hermione._

"_What do you mean?" Her frightened voice answered back._

"_Are you staying or what?" Ron's voice asked as if it was obvious._

"_I. Yes-yes, I'm staying. Ron we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help-" _

"_I get it. You choose him," Ron spat._

_It was always Harry and Hermione. No one needed Harry's stupid sidekick. They didn't need him. They were probably waiting for a chance to kick him out. An intense anger and hatred burned within him as Ron remembered that night._

_Even as the remembered conversation ended with his leaving, Ron still seethed. He waiting in the dark for the next memory to come, bubbling with anger all the while._

Ron awoke with a start, anger burning in his veins, or was it just the fever? His hands clenched at his sides, ignoring his straining muscles, and Ron very much wanted to hit something, preferably Harry. As though summoned, Harry once again put his hand to Ron's forehead to check the temperature. Instead of cooling the fire like it usually did, Harry's hand cause the flames to grow in their fury.

"Go AWAY Harry!" Ron roared through his parched throat.

The hand immediately retracted, but the burning of Ron's forehead didn't lessen. Guilt wormed its way into Ron's stomach and sat there like a dead weight. Where had these intense feelings come from? Harry was his friend. Harry had saved his life more than once. They had been through so much together. Closer than brothers they were.

So why did Ron have these feelings in his heart? Where had they come from? He was confused and it only added to the constant ache in his mind. He felt tired, so tired and his whole body ached. Ron opened his eyes to search for Harry, he needed to apologise.

The light in the room was bright but not unbearable. Ron didn't recognise it as he squinted around. His vision was hazy around the edges and the colours seemed off, but he could tell that Harry was no longer in the room.

With a sigh he closed his eyes again, relishing in the soothing darkness. It was probably for the best. With all these confusing feelings Ron was most likely going to say something he would regret. Perhaps some more sleep would clear his mind.

Opening his eyes once more Ron looked around the room. His eyes came to lay on a cup on the table beside the bed. Ron slowly and painfully reached out to grab the cup, trying to pay no mind to his protesting muscles. He tested the contents of the cup and immediately tasted the foul potion from before. Without a seconds thought, Ron drank the rest of the potion and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. The empty cup fell to the ground with a crash.

_Ron was once again suspended in consuming darkness. The darkness didn't scare him, it was peaceful and soothing after enduring the pain of his reality. He could see no guiding light in the distance, he couldn't even see his own hands in front of him. He could hear no past conversations, he couldn't even hear his own breath. But he was calm. The darkness hugged him like his mother used to. Ron felt safe and warm._

_Time seemed to be non-existent as he remained in the darkness. It could be passing by with great speed or it could have stopped. There was no notion of it passing, no sun to count the passing of days, just sweet nothingness. _

_Ron didn't dwell on his issues and confusing feelings. He was content to just remain and exist in this darkness. He felt safe, like he had not felt in such a long time. Ron had no one, just he wasn't alone. He had no past, no future and no present, just an all eternal peace._

_But like all peace, it had to come to an end. There was no transmission, one moment he was enjoying the darkness and the next he was in the forest. It was the forest that he, Harry and Hermione had appeared in. It was so much clearer than he remembered. The image was sharp with clarity, he could see the age in the trunks of the trees and the veins on the leaves. The smells and sounds were rich, he could hear the groaning of the trees and smell the damp earth beneath his feet. The feel of the breeze was crisp and stung his skin with its intensity._

"_Don't talk to me about Ron, Hermione," came the voice of Harry._

_Ron turned around and spied his two best friends sitting by the roots of an ancient tree. They were wearing foreign clothes, fancy garments that reeked of wealth and high standing and nothing like the wizards robes that they had been wearing. Ron could see every crease and blemish on their faces. It was as though he was looking at his them through new eyes._

"_He's not one of us anymore," Harry with conviction._

_There was a sharp hissing and Ron saw the black snake that was coiled around Harry's arm. Ron seethed with anger and betrayal. Harry had turned dark! Voldemort's horcrux had left its mark on Harry's mind after all._

_Ron watched as Hermione took Harry's hand in her own and leant her head against his shoulder. _

"_You're right. He can rot there in that tower for all I care," Hermione said with a soft hatred._

_Those words cut into Ron like a knife. Hermione had betrayed him too. Tears stung at his eyes, threatening to fall. Hurt and betrayal flowed through his veins before being followed by flaming anger. His anger burned him from the inside, he didn't want to see this anymore. Ron squeezed his eyes shut and it was gone. _

_Hardly believing his luck Ron opened his eyes to find an entirely different scene before him. He was standing in a medieval town. It stank of horse shit, and Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust. People dressed like peasants bustled past him paying him no mind. However, they occasionally looked up and smiled at the couple that was standing at the front door of a stone house._

_Ron saw them too. Dressed in their fancy clothes with big smiles on their faces, laughing at some joke. Hermione was partially flushed and the light of joy shone through her eyes. Harry stood chuckling as he looked at the crate in his arms. _

_Ron didn't know what they were laughing at, but it was aggravating. They shouldn't be happy and laughing without him. They shouldn't be having fun when he was so alone. It ignited a fire within him, didn't they care? Did their friendship mean nothing to him?_

"_I never knew moving all this would be so hard," Hermione's sweet voice reached him over the babble of the town._

_Of course they were moving in together. It was just like them. Always together, never needing him. He was only the sidekick anyway. With a burning hurt Ron turned away from the scene and like last time he closed his eyes. _

_When he opened them again he didn't know what to feel. Hermione was standing on a stone balcony of sorts. Her chocolate hair was done up in an intricate braid interwoven with flowers. She was wearing an elegant white gown and holding a bouquet of the same flowers in her hair. Hermione had the biggest smile on her face which lit up her whole face. She looked radiant and Ron had never seen her look more beautiful. _

_She was standing beside Harry who also wore a joyful smile on his face. He was dressed in splendid formal garments accented with gold thread. They looked so happy together, and Ron once again was hurt that he wasn't there, that he wasn't the one Hermione was looking at. _

_Ron had seen enough. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them to a new scene, which brought more dread than the last. One second of seeing was too much and Ron immediately shut his eyes, but the image was burned in his mind. Hermione and Harry with a baby, their child. _

_When he opened his eyes again Ron was once again suspended in the welcomed darkness. There he cried, all of the hurt and betrayal he felt turned into tears and shed from his system until all that remained was a burning anger._

_Ron didn't feel like himself, he felt different. But that wasn't a bad thing, this new Ron didn't need anyone. This Ron wasn't hurt from betrayal, he relished the feeling of vengeance and burning anger. He couldn't explain it, but it felt as though he had a new purpose in life. _

He was back in reality. Ron felt strong, stronger than he ever had before. His injuries had been healed and his fever broken. He had clarity and his mind was no longer confused as it had been before. He still had fire burning through his veins, but it was comforting and sustaining him.

Ron sat up in his bed and looked around. His saviour was not in the room, but Ron knew that it hadn't been Harry. It couldn't have been Harry because Harry had betrayed him. Ron would get his revenge, he knew it in his heart.

* * *

**A/N: **

"abcd" = Rohirric  
_"abcd" _= Westron  
_abcd_ = thoughts

Fyrwyn grunted as her skinny arms hefted the bucket of water from the well. It was coming upon sundown in their small settlement within The Wold and her chores were almost finished, thankfully. She tucked one of her blonde curls around her ear before starting the small trek back to her home.

The six year old was barely into her walk when her best friend, Dwennon, came running up with an empty bucket in his hands. Dwennon was five years older than Fyrwyn, but with only six children in their settlement there was not much choice. When he reached her, Dwennon's face was flushed from running and his golden hair knotted by the wind.

"Wait for me to fill mine Fyrwyn! Then we can walk back together!" he said breathlessly.

Fyrwyn frowned. Her mother really needed this water for dinner, and if she was any later she was sure to get a scolding. But Dwennon was her best friend, and he was looking at her with big pleading eyes.

"Ok, but be quick about it," she conceded.

Dwennon shouted in victory as he ran on towards the well. Fyrwyn dropped her bucket to the ground, inwardly cringing as the water sloshed over the side, and ran after him to speed things along.

By the time the two children were making their way to their houses with their buckets of water, laughing along the way, the sun was sitting dangerously on the horizon. Fyrwyn left Dwennon at his house a short while later and walked the short distance to her house. Her arms were straining when she got home but she breathed a sigh of relief.

Fyrwyn tilted her head in curiosity as she saw a figure running down the path towards her. Something coiled in the pit of her stomach, like warming bells and she tightened her grip on the bucket as she awaited the runner.

As they drew closer, Fyrwyn realised it was only her older brother and relaxed for she did not see the look of fear on his face. He ran up to her, cheeks flushed and sweat on his brow, and grasped her shoulders with great strength causing Fyrwyn to drop the bucket. The water spilled all over the ground causing the dirt to turn into mud.

"Fyroden! Mamma is going to be so angry, she really needed that water!" Fyrwyn reprimanded.

Fyroden just looked his younger sister in the eyes and she saw the fear in his eyes. Fyrwyn's heart jolted as she heard them in the distance.

"Listen sister, you must run. The Dunlendings are coming," he said with urgency.

"But Mamma and Papa-"

"I will send them after you, just run. Now Fyrwyn!" he shouted and pushed her in the opposite direction from the coming Dunlendings.

Fyrwyn staggered from the push, adrenalin and fear coursing through her system, and took a few hesitant steps backwards. She saw the glow of torch light in the near distance, the Dunlendings were close.

"Fyrwyn, run-" her brother demanded, but was cut off with a gasp of pain.

Fyroden stumbled as his eyes went wide then fell unmoving to the ground. Fyrwyn foolishly waited for her brother to get back up even though she saw the arrow sticking out of his back. Her young mind couldn't comprehend what was happening.

When she clearly saw the outlines of the Dunlendings brandishing their weapons and snarling, Fyrwyn did what any child would do in the situation. Her panicked scream pierced the air alerting others to the danger.

Fyrwyn's father came running out of the house with his sword drawn. He saw the still form of his son on the ground and gave a choked gasp. Her father looked at her with a wild look in his eyes.

"Run Fyrwyn! As fast as you can!" he urged.

Fyrwyn didn't need to be told again, her fear gave her strength and stamina. She ran by other villagers who had come out to see what was going on. The image of her beloved brother lying dead on the ground swam across her vision. She knew that her father wouldn't survive, not without anyone to help him.

Fearful screams resounded across the small town as the Dunlendings reached them. Fyrwyn knew she wasn't fast enough to outrun them, but where could she hide? The Dunlendings would plunder their houses then burn them, killing everyone. Those who they didn't kill would be taken as prisoners, Fyrwyn didn't know what was worse.

She screamed as a hand latched on to her arm, but it was only Dwennon. She saw that he was holding a sword that was too big for him, but he looked determined to protect her, and for that Fyrwyn was grateful.

"Come, we have to get out of here!" Dwennon shouted over the screams as he pulled her along behind him.

Dwennon was leading her to his family's stable, where he was hoping to flee on horseback. There was no time to saddle the great chestnut Stallion as the Dunlendings were already slaughtering people within the town.

Fyrwyn was lifted onto the horse and she clutched its mane in her fingers. Dwennon climbed on behind her and immediately guided the horse away from the Dunlendings. They cantered through the houses mindful of the other fleeing citizens.

They were almost free of the town when the horse suddenly reared throwing both of them from its back. Fyrwyn landed on her shoulder with a cry of pain and watched as the Stallion, her only chance of fleeing, galloped off into the distance, an arrow embedded in is rear.

Dwennon groaned from where he had landed beside her, winded from the fall. He scrambled to his feet and gripped his sword in front of him as a Dunlending savage came running up the road. Fyrwyn gasped in fear and Dwennon stood in front of her protectively.

Time seemed to slow down as the savage came closer and Fyrwyn found herself looking at the bodies of the fallen. The people that she had grown up with, her friends and family, were butchered on the road. The closest to them was the baker, her guts spilling from a gaping wound with her mouth opened in a silent scream. Fyrwyn was disgusted but she could not look away. Was that how she was going to die too?

The Dunlending savage had reached them. Dwennon didn't stand a chance and was tossed aside from a blow to the head, he didn't get up again. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the dark shadows were growing with speed. Then the savage turned on her, a wicked grin formed on his dirty face. Fyrwyn didn't back away, there was no point, no chance for survival. She watched the Dunlending raise his club and prayed for a quick death.

Then the Dunlending's head exploded. Fyrwyn was splattered with blood and gore and she watched with wide eyes as the headless body slumped to the ground. Rich red blood poured out of his neck and pooled on the ground. Fyrwyn felt sick but she pushed the feeling away as she looked behind where the savage was standing.

A man cloaked in black stood starting at the Dunlending savage with an intense hatred that made Fyrwyn step back. He emitted an aura of danger, anger and death which made her shiver deep down to her core. From underneath his hooded cloak, Fyrwyn could see a shining silver sword with strange writing on the blade, the hilt was adorned with rubies the colour of the blood that dripped form the blade. It was a kingly blade, beautiful and deadly.

The man's face was shrouded in shadow but Fyrwyn could see his eyes. Shining silver-grey eyes that burned with something wildly fierce but at the same time looked dead. She caught his gaze and felt herself freeze. His eyes promised pain for the Dunlendings and Fyrwyn almost felt sorry for them, almost.

Her shadowed saviour turned away and pounced on the Dunlending nearest him. Fyrwyn watched in awe as he seemed to dance around the savages killing them in an unforgiving and ruthless manner. Each swing of his sword sang the song of death and he attacked the Dunlendings as though each one of them had personally wronged him.

A bright green light shot out from the man's hand and the Dunlending it hit fell to the ground, dead.

_Mighty Béma!_

Fyrwyn stumbled over to the nearest house and continued to watch from the shadows as her saviour slaughtered the Dunlendings. He moved with inhuman speed as he went from savage to savage killing with his sword. If he wasn't killing with his sword then that godly green light was killing from afar.

Eventually all of the Dunlending savages had been slaughtered and Fyrwyn gave a sigh of relief. Night had completely fallen but the fires burned bright giving off ample light. Her saviour stood motionless over his last kill, blood dripping from his sword.

With a courage she didn't know she had, Fyrwyn took hesitant steps towards the cloaked man. He didn't seem to sense his approach but with each step Fyrwyn felt an unimaginable power growing, sweeping over the land, dangerous yet melancholy.

"_Were you sent by Béma to rid the Dunlendings from our land?" _she asked with a small frightened voice in the common tongue.

He spun around too quick to see with his sword and right hand raised.

"Avada-" the word was called out in a hoarse voice and immediately cut off.

Fyrwyn had instinctively stepped back and mulled over the unfamiliar word inn her head. What did it mean? She heard a faint hissing, like that of a snake, then the man lowered his sword and his whole body seemed to relax.

The kingly sword vanished from his hand in a blink of an eye, which left Fyrwyn blinking in wonder. She then watched as her saviour seemed to melt into the shadows and disappear. Fyrwyn was left standing along amongst the carnage not knowing if anyone was left alive.

Then the night's events caught up to her and Fyrwyn fell to her knees and let the darkness take her, her dreams filled with glowing silver-grey eyes and green flashing lights.

* * *

**A/N: And there we have it! Please remember to review, I welcome any constructive criticism or ideas! :) **


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